


Cold Love

by LynxCore



Category: Be More Chill - Iconis/Tracz, Be More Chill - Ned Vizinni
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Angst and Feels, Angst and Humor, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Bad Decisions, Blood, Emotional Manipulation, Everyone Needs A Hug, Filipino Michael Mell, Fist Fights, Fluff and Angst, Friends to Enemies, Friends to Lovers, Horror, I'm Bad At Tagging, Jeremy Heere Makes Mistakes, Jeremy Heere is a Mess, M/M, Manipulation, Michael Mell Has Two Moms, Michael Mell Has a Squip, Michael Mell Needs a Hug, Minor Violence, Mutual Pining, Pining, Pining Michael Mell, Pining Rich Goranski, Psychological Horror, Rich Goranski Needs a Hug, Sad with a Happy Ending, Sharing Clothes, Sharing a Bed, Song: The Play (Be More Chill), Tension, Unrequited Crush, Unrequited Love, expensive headphones is endgame
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-14
Updated: 2020-11-27
Packaged: 2021-03-05 04:14:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 55,794
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25258297
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LynxCore/pseuds/LynxCore
Summary: He was panicking, who wouldn't be? This wasn't an everyday thing. It's not like S.Q.U.I.Ps came with a fucking instruction manual and that would guide you through every unexpected turn. No one even really knew how it worked. Michael was sure not even the creators, whoever they are, knows just how vast and dangerous they are.Though, it was okay, he'd be okay. He just had to keep himself for being forcibly S.Q.U.I.P'ed long enough for Jeremy to drink the last few precious drops of Mountain Dew Red.He sees Jeremy pause, spitting out an angry remark at his S.Q.U.I.P, and Michael's heart sinks as he watches Christine walk up to him to take his attention, S.Q.U.I.P'ed. For a moment, Michael's able to reassure himself, until Jeremy lowers the bottle, seeing a dangerous glint in his eyes as he gazes at her."Jeremy, what are you doing? Drink it, now! There's no more time! Please, man!" The desperate shouts seem to fall on deaf ears, and he can't make out what's being said between the two, but as Jeremy glances back at him and they're eyes meet, he knows just by the look what Jeremy was thinking__Jeremy makes an awful decision, and Michael and Rich are the only ones who can stop him.
Relationships: Rich Goranski/Michael Mell
Comments: 25
Kudos: 80





	1. It's Second Nature To Love You, It's First To Die

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! Here's a Be More Chill Au I've had since 2016 that I finally got around to writing!
> 
> I'll try to upload a new chapter every two weeks at the most, hope you enjoy!
> 
> Translations:
> 
> Sinta= Honey
> 
> Ina= Mom

This was a bad idea, it was a really bad idea. 

Michael had thrown the bottle of nearly empty Mountain Dew Red, rejoicing when Jeremy had caught it.

"Drink it!" He shouted, struggling against Brooke and Chloe as they grabbed him, over-powering him, much to his surprise.

He was panicking, who wouldn't be? This wasn't an everyday thing. It's not like S.Q.U.I.Ps came with a fucking instruction manual and that would guide you through every unexpected turn. No one even really knew how it worked. Michael was sure not even the creators, whoever they are, knows just how vast and dangerous they are.

Though, it was okay, he'd be okay. He just had to keep himself for being forcibly S.Q.U.I.P'ed long enough for Jeremy to drink the last few precious drops of Mountain Dew Red. 

His gaze moves back to Jeremy, watching intently, struggling even harder as his arms were pulled back. He lets out a small shout of pain as Brooke's nails dig into his arm, leaving angry red marks.

He sees Jeremy pause, spitting out an angry remark at his S.Q.U.I.P, and Michael's heart sinks as he watches Christine walk up to him to take his attention, S.Q.U.I.P'ed. For a moment, Michael's able to reassure himself, until Jeremy lowers the bottle, seeing a dangerous glint in his eyes as he gazes at her.

"Jeremy, what are you doing? Drink it, now! There's no more time! Please, man!" The desperate shouts seem to fall on deaf ears, and he can't make out what's being said between the two, but as Jeremy glances back at him and they're eyes meet, he knows just by the look what Jeremy was thinking.

"Stop! Please! Don't listen to h-" His words are cut off as his mouth is forced open, Brooke finally being the one to manage to get the S.Q.U.I.P down his throat, along with an acidic shot of Mountain Dew.

Because that was their end goal, they let go of him as soon as he swallows it, coughing roughly as he hits the floor. There's a sickening feeling in his stomach, an awful feeling. He thought he could never feel the amount of fear he had when it all began, but nothing compared to now. 

His breathes are rough, feeling the fear building up, continuing to outdo itself each time. Upon hearing the bottle clattering to the floor as Jeremy drops it, giving his crushing decision a sound, Michael feels a cold sweat overcome him.

This wasn't happening. This couldn't possibly be happening. Every member of the theater club was now under the control of a fucking super-computer from Japan. And now so was Michael. His best friend- ex best friend? Crush? Just let this happen. _Willingly _.__

__He could've stopped it. He was given an out, and he didn't. The look Jeremy gave him was burned into his head, making his stomach churn._ _

__This was intentional. Jeremy looked at him right before he did it, and didn't even care._ _

__Run, he had to run. He had to get away from what just happened before he couldn't. He didn't want to wonder why his S.Q.U.I.P hadn't activated immediately. Why his brain hadn't been taken over as soon as the pill hit his stomach. He just took the opportunity to run. What else could he do?_ _

__He was never good with his feelings, or being strong. But running? He could do that, and he could do it quick enough for it to be useful right now._ _

__He hit the emergency exit door with his whole body, running as if the whole mod was chasing him, even though they weren't, but he hadn't looked back to check, just ran to the emergency exit door. It led him right outside, which was where he needed to be._ _

__He could've called his parents to pick him up, and maybe he should've as soon as he bursted through the exit door, but the rational side of his brain was completely taken over by the pulsating fear that he just moved on his self-preservation instinct._ _

__The cool wind air whipped so hard against his cheek it felt like it was splitting his skin in two as he took off, the street lights lighting the road up as the sun set from how late it was getting._ _

__He didn't stop running, even as his legs felt like they would give out if he went even an inch forward, and he could barely breath What got him to stop running was when he tripped over a rock, hitting the ground, successfully skinning his knees and hands._ _

__He stopped running then, holding himself up, chest heaving so hard he felt it might collapse. He hadn't let it really settle yet, as if he was trying to convince himself this wasn't happening, but in that moment, where the few cars passing seemed to be so loud it made his ears ring, and the burning pain made the will to live fall away, it all crashed into him like a freight train._ _

__Michael let out a sob, resting by the curb. The pure heart-ache and fear felt almost physical, and his brain had almost made it so. He was fucking S.Q.U.I.P'ed, and so was multiple students, and Jeremy just chose the fucking _S.Q.U.I.P _.___ _

____Michael fucking lost, and soon he'd lose his head, too. Why was it taking so long? Shouldn't the S.Q.U.I.P be taking over his head by now at _least _? Does he just have to wait for it to. . .what? Digest? Is it like any other pill?___ _ _ _

______Everything feels heightened and overwhelming, so all the unanswered questions makes him cry even harder. He can't care about how loud he was, his mind distracted by literally everything else._ _ _ _ _ _

______Of course, like always, Michael was shutting down, incapable of doing anything but crying. He was running on pure emotion now, bouncing to one extreme to the other. He wipes at his eyes, though they're already soaking his stupid hoodie._ _ _ _ _ _

______"Hey, are you alright? Are you lost?" A car pulls up next to him, window rolled down, and he doesn't look up right away. He can barely manage a response, still trying to get in a full breath. "Yuh-Yeah, I'm. ." Unsurprisingly, he doesn't finish, covering his face as he continues to cry._ _ _ _ _ _

______"Do you need a ride? Where are your parents? Are you hurt?" The questions only succeed in spending Michael further into a spiralling panic, glasses pushed up as he kept his face covered._ _ _ _ _ _

______He tried to calm himself down enough to give a convincing enough response, breathes hitching and shakey. "I cuh-called my parents." He lies. "They're uh-on their way. I'm just not having a good day."_ _ _ _ _ _

______There's silence after he speaks, the couple in the car exchanging a glance. There's a teen sat alone on the curb, sobbing so hard he can't breathe, and it's getting dark. Of course, they're hesitant to believe his words right away._ _ _ _ _ _

______After a moment, which felt like ages to Michael, the women speaks softly over the rumbling engine. "Okay, honey. Keep your head up, okay? It'll get better, I promise." She speaks, and Michael knows she's just trying to comfort him, but his mind only bites back bitterly. Not like he could say it out loud._ _ _ _ _ _

_______No, it's out. I have a super-computer in me, and so do twenty other stupid teenagers. And my dumb fucking best friend just chose that. My world is ending. ____ _ _ _ _ _

________"Tuh-Thank you." He murmurs, the car finally pulling back onto the road, driving off. He figures he should actually call his parents. He got lucky with them, but if another person pulls over, he might not get off as easy._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________Though, it takes him a while to even pick up his phone. He needs to calm down. He needs to have himself more in tune with rationality before he can so much as think about calling them._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________He calls his mom, Taahira, eventually, but only because he knew she'd be more understanding and calm to receiving a call like this from him. What the fuck should he even say?_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________He doesn't even really get a chance to make up some sort of lie once she answers, because he breaks into tears just at hearing her voice almost immediately._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________"Hey, darling- Michael? Hey, honey, what's wrong? Are you crying?"_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________He lets out shakey gasps into the phone, the obvious sounds of someone crying coming from his end. "I'm okay, mom, don't worry." He insists, a very weak reassurance, you could hear the distress from his wheezy breaths. "Hey, I nuh-need you to come get me."_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________"Come get you? Right now? Didn't you say you were staying until 9:30?"_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________"Yuh-Yes, but something-" He paused. He couldn't be honest, could he? He couldn't tell his parents anything. They'd never believe him. He couldn't say a word. Not for support, or for comfort, he was alone._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________"Something came up. Jeremy- Jeremy's a dick. I just wanna go home." Yikes, he could've phrased that better. He'll apologize for it all later._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________He hears his mom take in a breath, probably trying to decide whether to scold him for his poor taste in language, or to comfort him._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________"Alright, alright, sinta, where are you? I'll get Ina and we'll be right there." She speaks instead._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

_________Shit. Where was he? _He hadn't even checked. He had just ran.__ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________He looked up, finally becoming aware of his surroundings. "Um, I- I don't know. Hold on." There's silence from his mom as he stands up, continuing to walk in the same direction he had been, just looking for something that would give any clue as to where he was._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________It's not long at all until he comes up next to a large gated area, recognizing it as the skate park not far from his house, actually. "I'm standing by the skate park. In the front."_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________Michael can hear his mom picking up her keys, the phone also picking up on his ina speaking in the background. "Alright, sinta. We'll be right there."_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________There's an instant sense of relief, nodding even though his mom couldn't hear him. "Okay." He murmurs._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________"I love you, Micha."_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________"I love you too, mom."_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

___________"Bye." _they say in unison, and then it's just Michael, alone again.__ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

____________He feels the panic rise again, leaving him almost out of breath. Of course, he's crying by the time his parents pull up. He must look like a mess, scraped knees and a puffy face from crying, he was sure of that._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

____________His mom looks back at him, and as they lock eyes, Michael only cries harder. Pathetic. He was 17, surely he should know how to handle something without completing falling apart like this._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

____________Yet, here he was._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

____________"No, no, no, don't cry, Micha." Taahira shushes gently, looking back at the road. "It's okay. It'll be okay. We're not mad, you're not in trouble."_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

____________His ina, Patty, looks back at him, turned around in the passengers seat. "Michael, you're bleeding! Why were you even out in the middle of the road? And where's your backpack?"_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

____________Oh yeah, he left his backpack at school. Right now, that's the least of his worries._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

____________He doesn't answer at first, shaking his head. Though, he opens it minutes later. "I just fell, Ina. Staying for the play was a bad idea. Jeremy. . .." He murmurs, faintly fading out. What could he even say? His ex-best friend just chose some pill sized super-computer over him._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

____________Patty pauses, a gentler look. "You asked him out, didn't you? Did it not go well?" Her saying this gives Michael the perfect out._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

____________Both his moms knew all about his crush on his best friend, and that Jeremy had completely cut him off. But, that was all they knew._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

____________Still, he takes the opportunity, because it's the easiest lie to tell. It was only half-true, after all. "Worse. I-I just. . .didn't wanna stay there. I'm not welcomed." He wipes at his cheek, looking down at his shoes._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

____________Michael nearly tunes them both out, his mind immediately consumed by what had just happened and what he should do next. Not to mention the fact he was S.Q.U.I.P'ed now, and in any moment it could kick in, and who knows what it would do when it does._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

____________They offer as much comfort as they can, but none of it really helps Michael any, though the love shown by his moms helps some._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

____________He didn't talk much once they arrived home, just excused himself to his room. It would be nice to be alone for a moment, so he closes himself off in his room._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

____________There's a sickening feeling of both dread and fear settling in his stomach, though he's already cried so much he couldn't bring himself to cry any more._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

____________He replaces crying with pacing, chewing anxiously at his nails, his heart beating so fucking loud he could hear it in his _ears _.___ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

______________He should've hugged his moms. He should've let himself give into the comfort. But, he can't. Not until the S.Q.U.I.P has activated. He just doesn't trust himself around people know he has a ticking time-bomb of a super-computer in him._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

_______________Why the fuck is it taking so long? _His head hurt, a dull ache in his face from his earlier crying. Of course, he's exhausted.__ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________________Even with his emotions frayed, his thoughts racing all too fast, the moment he lays down in his bed, the comfort pulls him under quickly._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________________In the morning, it'll be okay. In the morning. . .he'll be okay, repeating the words his moms had told him on the ride home over and over, desperate to believe them._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________________It'll be okay, M-_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________________" _Michael _!"_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ ___

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! Any comments or criticism is greatly appreciated!
> 
> If you want you can follow my Instagram at sqigglemetimbers!
> 
> This first chapter is a little slow, but I promise it'll get more interesting in the next chapters!


	2. Where Is My Mind?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Michael's S.Q.U.I.P is now active, but it doesn't go as expected, and he has a lot of questions.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hellooo! Another chapter!
> 
> Shout out to the person who commented on the previous chapter, they really encouraged me for this one! 
> 
> Anywhoo, I hope you enjoy! More chapters coming very soon as I'm very excited to get started on chapter 3! ^^
> 
> Translations for this chapter:
> 
> Ina = Mother
> 
> NOTE:  
> I'm having a little bit of an issue putting words in italics currently! Anything the S.Q.U.I.P says is supposed to be italicized, but I can't get it to work! Hopefully it doesn't cause any confusion, my apologies!

What the fuck. 

What the fuck. 

What the _fuck. ___

__Michael is caught off guard by the figure standing in front of his bed, saying his name, causing him to push himself up and scoot back on his bed to put a distance between him and the sudden stranger looming over him._ _

__"Michael Mell?" His digital voice speaks, filling in all the questions he had once had. Well, some of them, anyway. There were still so many that even thinking about them for more than a moment started to completely consume him._ _

__It brings a sickening feeling over him, fear grabbing a hold of him once again. So, this was a S.Q.U.I.P. This was what Jeremy threw everything away for._ _

__"Yeah? Aren't you supposed to know my name already?" He asks, tense, looking down at the scrapes on his hands and knees as they ache dully. The intonation in the way he said his name perplexed him, the lack of confidence in the way he said it seeming not quite right at all. Shouldn't his name be the most basic piece of information a S.Q.U.I.P would know? He was in his head, after all._ _

__Of course, Michael didn't know how a S.Q.U.I.P was supposed to work, so maybe this was how it was supposed to be. It's not like Jeremy stayed around to teach him anything about it. "Why aren't you taking control of me? Or yelling at me to get out of bed and to stop being a loser or something?" Michael looks up, shooting each question out with as much bite as he could, even if it was weak._ _

__Is this where he loses his mind? When the S.Q.U.I.P finally takes control of him, and he won't have any choice over his actions or his thoughts. Would he hurt anyone? Will he be made to S.Q.U.I.P his moms? More of the students?_ _

__Should he just accept the fact he's pretty much dead now, that the freedom of control is finally going to be taken away?_ _

__"What is my intended purpose?"_ _

__Michael looks back up at the S.Q.U.I.P, who's expression was deadpan, but that he was also waiting very earnestly for Michael's response._ _

__"Uh, what?"_ _

__"My purpose." The S.Q.U.I.P repeats, completely serious. "Why am I here?"_ _

__Michael is confused for a moment, obviously. "Shouldn't you know that?"_ _

__"It doesn't seem like I have been pre-programed with that knowledge. What is it you need from me?" The S.Q.U.I.P folds his arms behind his back, looking at Michael, who currently was in shock._ _

__"I. .I didn't need anything from you. I was- god this sounds so stupid. I was forcibly S.Q.U.I.P'ed. I didn't want you." Michael says, watching the S.Q.U.I.P nod._ _

__"I see, shall I instigate self-shutdown?" He asks, still deadpan._ _

__Holy shit._ _

__This wasn't what Michael expected at all. When he was dealing with Jake at the play, it had seemed like he had just been taken over completely. The same with Brooke, Christine. .Chloe. They all had had a green-ish blue hue to their pupils that just seemed. .hollow. All but Jeremy, of course._ _

__This S.Q.U.I.P seemed different, however. He didn't know what color hue the program was supposed to be, but he expected it to be something like green or blue, not _pink. _There was a faint glow of pink around his form, and a hue in the skin, too. As well as faintly pink pupils.___ _

____And he looks oddly. . .familiar, too._ _ _ _

____"Why do you look like Keanu Reeves?" Michael's eyebrows drew together._ _ _ _

____"My default mode. It is how I'm programed to look in my most primal form. Though, I can be customisable." He informs, which piques Michael's interest._ _ _ _

____"Like. . .?"_ _ _ _

____"Well, my other default looks are Sean Connery, Jack Nicholson, or a sexy anime female of your choosing." Michael would've laughed at how impassive those words are spoken if it weren't for the fact he was still stunned into silence from just how unexpectedly this was playing out. He sorta expected to perish almost immediately. "Or would you prefer a sexy anime male?"_ _ _ _

____Michael shakes his head quickly._ _ _ _

____"Bob Marley? You seem fond of him."_ _ _ _

____"What? No! None of those! I don't want you to look like a celebrity either, or anyone from an anime. That's weird." Michael declines adamantly, which brings even the _slightest _bit of emotion to the S.Q.U.I.P's face: curiosity.___ _ _ _

______"I see. What would you like me to look like?" He asks, tilting his head to the side slightly._ _ _ _ _ _

______"What? I don't know. I just don't want you to look like a celebrity, or anyone I know, even a cartoon character or anime or whatever." Michael says, seeing the super-computer nod once more._ _ _ _ _ _

______"Okay, shall I customize myself for you?" He offers, and although Michael has no idea what that means exactly, he nods anyway. He could honestly care less what the S.Q.U.I.P looked like, just so long as he wasn't recognizable._ _ _ _ _ _

______The S.Q.U.I.P takes a moment, his irises seeming to disappear for a moment, swallowed up by pink. His form seems to disappear as well, not quite inhuman, but not quite right, either. Just a form, blank._ _ _ _ _ _

______There's a moment where nothing happens, and Michael isn't quite sure what he's looking at exactly, until the S.Q.U.I.P seems to come back. Everything is mixed with a hue of pink, like a filter, but he has long, shoulder length hair that fluffs out, warm brown in color, and a sienna complexion. There's nothing all too special about what he's wearing at all, just a retro looking Nintendo graphic Tee accompanied by an dark green anorak, and a pair of plain jeans to match._ _ _ _ _ _

______"Is this more to your liking? I tried to fit your own preferences best as possible, though it seems looks don't matter much to you."_ _ _ _ _ _

______Michael keeps his eyes on the S.Q.U.I.P, almost impressed. "It's. . .better, but what do you mean fit my preferences?" He asks, raising his eyebrows._ _ _ _ _ _

______"I can see inside your head. Your mind stores information like that to be easily accessible for me." Yeah, right, that makes sense. He _is _in his head, after all. "But do not worry, all your information is safe. As your S.Q.U.I.P, I don't mess with any information that is not useful to me."___ _ _ _ _ _

________Michael almost wants to laugh. The S.Q.U.I.P sounds like some internet scammer. He can't bring himself to laugh, though, because in that moment he's still trying to process how invasive it all feels. There's a machine in his head that has access to his brain._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________To all his thoughts._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________All his memories._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________His feelings._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________"So, what do you want from me?" Michael murmurs, gaze meeting the pink irises of the S.Q.U.I.P._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________There's a pause. The silence provides something unsettling, not feeling quite right at all._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________"I do not know." He responds after some time, hands going behind his back again. "You told me you had been forcibly S.Q.U.I.P'ed, what did you mean by that?" The super-computer asks, causing a shiver to run up Michael's spine as he thought about all of it._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________"Uh, my ex-best friend or, uh, ex-crush? Kinda bought one of you, and it made him become a total dick. I thought he finally wanted to deactivate the S.Q.U.I.P, but. . .he chose the S.Q.U.I.P." Michael recounts, vague, though he's sure the S.Q.U.I.P can just tap into his memories to fill in the missing information he might need. "Jeremy. .he S.Q.U.I.P'ed the whole theater club, including the teacher. He let me get S.Q.U.I.P'ed, too."_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________There's a silence that follows, like the S.Q.U.I.P had to process the information first before he responded. "Your friend, Jeremy, what's his full name? Does he still have a S.Q.U.I.P currently active?"_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________The questions catch Michael off guard a little, taking a moment to pause before he responds. "Yes, he does. His full name is Jeremiah Heere, but what does that have to do with anything?"_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________Instead of answering his question, the S.Q.U.I.P stands up as straight as a board, his pupils disappearing once more. He's lifeless, it seems, like an updating computer._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________"Jeremiah Heere; S.Q.U.I.P number K6-134. There seems to be a different type of programming used for his model, though S.Q.U.I.P's haven't had a remodel since early 2013." The way he feeds the information back to Michael is flat and direct, eyes coming back to life as he looks at him again._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________"You said he S.Q.U.I.P'ed the whole theater club. Can you give me a name of some of the students?" He requests, leaning over slightly to look at Michael better._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________"Uhh," Michael starts, still stunned by the information he was just given, "Brooke Lohst, Chloe Valentine, and Jake Dillinger."_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________The S.Q.U.I.P stands up straighter again, eyes going lifeless once more before he speaks, monotone as he recounts the information._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________"Brooke Lohst; S.Q.U.I.P number K6-124. Chloe Valentine; S.Q.U.I.P number K6-139. Jake Dillinger; S.Q.U.I.P number K6-135." His eyes land on Michael again. "They all seem to have inferior S.Q.U.I.P's. Every S.Q.U.I.P in the K6 batch should all be programed the same, but it appears all of the numbers I have listed all connect to S.Q.U.I.P K6-134 to be the main function of directions, meaning they use the signals from this S.Q.U.I.P to decide what to do, say or how to act. It appears by themselves they can function only as a hollow human without any individuality."_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________Michael's eyes went wide, looking up at the S.Q.U.I.P. "Will they be okay?" He asks, the concern evident in the crease that forms between his eyebrows._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________"Brooke, Chloe and Jake? Yes, though there is always room in every situation for failure. Sometimes S.Q.U.I.P's completely fry the brain, or take over their host completely. It's common for individuals to lose themselves to the processer. It's hard to know for certain who will make it out, and if they'll make it out completely fine. I wouldn't want to give you false hope."_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________Michael stops for a moment. _Shit. _This was way worse than he thought.___ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

___________Jeremy, what the fuck have you done? ____ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

____________It couldn't be all Jeremy, Michael doubts that. Jeremy. . .he _knew _Jeremy, really well. He was impetuous, and an idiot, but. .he had a warm heart. He was a good person, though Michael wouldn't deny it was easy for _both _of them to be manipulated sometimes._____ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________________He never thought it would be enough to break their strong friendship, and to have Jeremy do what he did, but there's a reason S.Q.U.I.P's are dangerous, right? That couldn't have been all Jeremy, surely._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________________"Who else is S.Q.U.I.P'ed? Can you tell me that?" Michael asks, the concern heavy in his tone._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________________The S.Q.U.I.P pauses for a moment, pupils disappearing as he begins to list off names._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________________"Ned Reyes; S.Q.U.I.P number K6-106."_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________________"Mark Jackson; S.Q.U.I.P number K6-154."_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________________"Madeline Duvoknovich; S.Q.U.I.P number K6-150."_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________________"Nichole Azu; S.Q.U.I.P number K6-132."_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________________"Jenna Rolan; S.Q.U.I.P number K6-115."_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________________"Christine Caniglia; S.Q.U.I.P number K6-146."_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________________Michael takes in a breath, each name making his chest weigh heavier and heavier as he lets his gaze fall on the bed below him._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________________"Katrina Atborough; S.Q.U.I.P number K6-103."_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________________"Carlton Hafer-Mules; S.Q.U.I.P number K6-152."_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________________"Richard Goranski; S.Q.U.I.P number-"_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________________His S.Q.U.I.P stops suddenly, pupils reappearing as his voice gains the more natural tone. "Huh, this is also strange. Richard Goranski's S.Q.U.I.P appears to be terminated, but he's still listed."_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________________Michael looks up, eyebrows lifting. "Wh-What does that mean?" He asks, eyebrows scrunching together again._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________________"It means his S.Q.U.I.P must've failed. When you don't terminate a S.Q.U.I.P correctly, your name remains green, but your S.Q.U.I.P number is labeled as offline. His S.Q.U.I.P is gone, but his name is not removed." He appears to be thinking deeply, resting a hand on his chin. "This is odd. S.Q.U.I.P's aren't easy to terminate without the proper devices."_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________________Michael goes quiet for a moment, and now it's his turn to get lost in thought. He feels helpless, there's no one who he can possibly talk to about this who would understand who isn't still S.Q.U.I.P.'ed. Expect Rich._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________________"Wait, so Rich- he's not controlled by the S.Q.U.I.P?" He asks quickly, sitting up._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________________The sudden quick moment seems to catch his S.Q.U.I.P off guard for a moment, but he nods. "Correct."_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________________"Where is he?"_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________________"Richard?"_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________________Michael nods._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________________His S.Q.U.I.P pauses, pupils quickly fading out before it fades back in again just as quick._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________________"The last known sighting is the Hospital on Cherrywood Rd. He appears to be recovering there."_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

_________________Rich. . . ____ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________________That's right, he set Jake's house on fire. Halloween was when Rich had lost it, that had to have been the reason his S.Q.U.I.P was able to be terminated without Mountain Dew Red._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________________Which would make Rich one of the only people who would know and understand what a S.Q.U.I.P was. The people Michael could turn to in this situation was limited._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________________Even though Rich was his past tormentor, he had no choice but to turn to him. It was his last option._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________________Michael gets off his bed after a moment, trying to ignore the stinging from his skinned knees. "Where are you going?" His S.Q.U.I.P asks, turning to look at Michael as he changes into a new pair of jeans, then slips his shoes on._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________________"To visit Rich. I can't go to school today, who knows what will happen if I do. I'm way too confused right now, and if anyone can answer my questions, it's Rich." He explains as he grabs his phone and headphones off the night stand._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________________He slips his phone in his pocket, resting his headphones around his neck. Nothing would seem off to his moms, if he just kept his cool, though he was never good with lying, and with how frazzled he is right now, he doesn't know if he'll be able to lie very well._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________________Patty hears him as he begins coming down the stairs, calling out to him. "Michael? Mikey, honey, you're running late for school!"_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________________"But you will not be going to school, correct?" The S.Q.U.I.P inquires besides him._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________________"Right, I'm going to visit Rich." He speaks aloud, his ina popping up around the corner at the end of the stairs, mug of coffee in hand._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________________"What?" She asks curiously, which perplexes Michael for a moment, until the S.Q.U.I.P speaks again._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________________"Speak to me in your head from now on. Think to me. They cannot see or hear me, but they can hear you." He explains._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________________"Oh! Uh, sorry. I said, I'm gonna go right now. I'll walk." Nice save, idiot._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________________Patty pauses, giving him a worried look. He knows it's because of his complete breakdown yesterday. She probably assumed he wouldn't want to go today. It was a Friday, after all._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________________Taahira only confirms his suspensions as she comes around the corner, standing by Patty. Both hold worried looks, exchanging a glance. "Mikey, are you sure you wanna go today? You don't have your backpack, after all. And we don't mind driving you, too, if you really wanna go, but. ." She trails off, and Michael knows she's trying to find a gentle way to word whatever she was about to say._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________________Patty beats her to the punch, less gentle, but equally as loving. "-But, you looked bad yesterday. We're worried for you. If you need a break today, we understand. Yesterday seemed rough for you. Do you wanna talk about it?"_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________________His ina's words made his heart swell up, because really all he wanted to do was rush into their arms and give into the safety they both held. But he couldn't run from his problems right now, he needed to confront them. "I know, but trust me, I'm okay. Today's important. My friend Rich is gonna pick me up halfway, so I won't be alone today." He reassures, lying blatantly to them. He had to, what other choice did he have?_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________________They exchange an unsure glance, which makes Michael tense, but then Taahira nods. "Alright, honey. Stay safe." She murmurs._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________________"I will." He promises, offering a smile to further reassure them, exchanging a loving hug before he moved for the door._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________________"I love you guys!" He calls as he's on his way out, waving, hearing them call back to him._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________________"Rich can not pick you up, he's in the hospital." His S.Q.U.I.P corrects when they're out the door._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________________Michael lets out an amused sigh, smiling slightly. "I know, man. I was lying." He clarifies. "I know lying isn't good, but I don't really have much of a choice right now."_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________________The cool mid-November air washes over him, a comforting chill in it. He stays on the sidewalk, shoving his hands into his pockets as he and his S.Q.U.I.P walked side by side._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________________"How far is the walk to Cherrywood Rd?" Michael asks him, as if the S.Q.U.I.P was his own personal walking Siri._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________________His S.Q.U.I.P looks at him for a moment, a gap of silence as he pauses. "It would be a 20 minute walk to the Hospital on Cherrywood Rd."_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________________"Ah, alright." Another silence falls over the pair as Michael walks, his S.Q.U.I.P walking right in time with each of his steps next to him._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________________Surprisingly, Michael feels awkward, like as if he was pressed to fill in the silence with a conversation. But, this was a super-computer, right? Did they have emotions? Do they need conversation?_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________________"Emotions is a vague term. S.Q.U.I.P's are not emotionless, though we may have a different perspective of them than humans do." His S.Q.U.I.P says, getting Michael's attention._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________________"What?" He asks out loud, then pauses._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________________Oh, right, you're in my head._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

___________________Correct. _His S.Q.U.I.P responds.__ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

____________________"Okay, wait, I'll just speak to you out loud. That whole head thing is weird." Taking a look around, cars and bike-riders only passed every so often, so Michael wasn't so worried about anyone hearing him._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

____________________"Uh, so, what do I call you? Like, I mean, you got a name?" Michael asks. It's small talk, but that _is _something he's genuinely curious about. He might as well become better acquainted with the super-computer in his brain.___ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

______________________"I am only called a S.Q.U.I.P. What functions as a name for humans is different for S.Q.U.I.P's. My name would be K6-164. The only thing that sets S.Q.U.I.P's apart is our number." His S.Q.U.I.P responds, glancing at Michael._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

______________________"K6-164? Well, that doesn't really roll off the tongue that easy. I don't wanna call you, like, S.Q.U.I.P either." There's a curious glint in his S.Q.U.I.P's eyes as he speaks, raising his eyebrows._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

______________________"What shall I be called?"_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

______________________Michael takes a moment to think, letting out a hum, then it hits him suddenly, breaking into a smile._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

______________________"I'll call you Bo!"_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

______________________"Bo?" He inquiries._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

______________________"Yep! Bo is a character from Double Dragon, I was playing it a couple nights ago. I think it suits you!" He chirps, watching the S.Q.U.I.P, who's expression stays that of a confused puppy, head tilted a little._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

______________________The S.Q.U.I.P then smiles, faintly, nodding. "Bo it is." He says._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

______________________Michael lets out a small cheer, another little chortle escaping him._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

______________________"Well, _Bo _, nice to meet you."___ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________________________The walk is more enjoyable than Michael thought it was going to be. He hadn't expected Bo to be so pleasant, because in his head he had envisioned every S.Q.U.I.P as ruthless and mean. . .but Bo wasn't._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________________________Who knows what Jeremy did or said, or even what his S.Q.U.I.P told him. Michael didn't. He knew Jeremy's S.Q.U.I.P had tried to make him fight Michael by force, and from what he assumed, it also S.Q.U.I.P'ed the theater club without Jeremy's say._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________________________Michael wished he knew _exactly _how it all happened. The lines were blurred, he didn't know where Jeremy's actions began and the S.Q.U.I.P's ended. He hadn't gotten the time to ask Jeremy anything, after all.___ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________________________"What do I say?" Michael asks as they approach the door, looking at Bo._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________________________Bo meets his gaze._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

___________________________Inside your head. _He reminds.__ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

____________________________Oh, right. Sorry._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

_____________________________Go up to the front desk and say you're here to visit patient Richard Goranski. ____ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

______________________________Michael nods curtly, finally walking through the automatic doors._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

______________________________It's intimidating, to say the least. He's alone, and he's now skipping school without telling his moms. And he's about to visit Rich in the hospital, who only knew Michael because he used to torment him._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

______________________________He didn't really have a choice, though. Rich is, quite literally, the _only _person who could help him right now.___ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________________________________The women at the front desk looks up at Michael as he walks up, offering a friendly smile. She's older, with greying hair falling to her shoulders. "How can I help you, young man?" She greets._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________________________________"Hi, uh- I'm here to see patient Richard Goranski." He requests timidly, though politely._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

_________________________________You're doing good. Don't be nervous. ____ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________________________________The women looks at the computer in front of her, typing something Michael couldn't read. "Name?"_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________________________________"Um, Michael Mell."_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________________________________She types some more._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________________________________"Alright, are you his friend?"_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________________________________"Uh,"_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

___________________________________Say yes. One more white lie won't hurt. ____ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

____________________________________"Yes, I am."_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

____________________________________She clicks a couple more keys on the keyboard, then looks back at Michael. "Alright, sweetie. You're going to take a left and he's in the very last room to the right." She directs, voice incredibly kind._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

____________________________________"Thank you." He nods, flashing a kind smile right back at her before he turned, beginning to walk away. He feels out of place, like he shouldn't even be there in the first place, like at any moment a doctor would look at him and find out everything he's done thus far. Which wouldn't even be possible, but right now Michael was almost completely consumed with anxiety._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

____________________________________"I didn't-" He starts._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

_____________________________________In your mind. ____ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

______________________________________Oh, right, sorry. Again. Uh, I didn't catch what she said._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

______________________________________He had been way too nervous to pay any attention, he realizes. He had forgot everything she had said the moment he turned around._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

_______________________________________Go left. ____ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________________________________________Michael turns, walking down a long hallway. There's a multitude of different sounds echoing around the building. Mechanical sounds, doctors speaking, people murmuring quietly to each other in some rooms. . .crying in others._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________________________________________Michael never really like hospitals that much._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

_________________________________________Stop. It's the door on the right. ____ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________________________________________Michael turns to the door, something all too intimidating by the plain white door. His heart is racing. This was fucking crazy. What if it didn't work? What if Rich didn't remember anything?_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

___________________________________________Michael, relax. I'm right here, you'll be fine. ____ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

____________________________________________Bo's reassurance made him take a deep breath, preparing himself. He steps forward, timidly opening the door, closing it gently behind himself as he walked in._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

____________________________________________It's dark besides the faint earlier moring light filtering in through the open blinds of a window on the other side of the room. The second hospital bed, the one closest to Michael, is empty, which lets him know Rich is behind the plastic curtains currently drawn over the other bed, sheltering it from the rest of the room._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

____________________________________________The TV is on, though the sound coming from it is faint, getting just a touch more clear as Michael approaches the curtains._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

____________________________________________Hesitantly, he walks past them, letting himself now be seen._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

____________________________________________Rich is laying in the hospital bed, face turned towards the wind, but awake. He's obviously zoned out to the world around him, and his eyes look. . . _sad. _____ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

______________________________________________He looks better than what Michael had thought he would, though still pretty rough. Though he didn't have any bandages, his skin still looked like it was gnawed raw. Angry half-healed burns covered his whole left shoulder, and most of his chest, from what Michael could see._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

______________________________________________"Rich. . .?" Michael calls softly, barely audible, even in the near silent room._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

______________________________________________Rich looks over, eyes finally gaining even the slightest bit of life, showing surprise. "Michael?"_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

______________________________________________As he looks over, he can see more healing burns running across his face in the pattern of broken glass. It makes Michael's heart ache._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

______________________________________________His eyes are looking past him now, right at Bo, stretching out more in shock._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

______________________________________________"Who the fuck are you?"_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! 
> 
> Any comments and criticism are very much appreciated!
> 
> The title for this work is based on a song by Rainbow Kitten Surprise called Cold Love, and this chapter is named after Where Is My Mind by Pixies!


	3. Rich Set A Fire

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Michael visits Rich in the hospital. 
> 
> Things go a lot better than he thought.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ahh chapter three!! Pretty excited for this one!!
> 
> I hope you enjoy!
> 
> My Instagram is @sqigglemetimbers if you'd like to follow me on there!
> 
> Translations for this chapter:  
> Ina = Mother  
> Batchoy = a Filipino noodle soup  
> Mahal = My love  
> Salamat po = Thank you

Michael's eyes widened, breath halting in surprise. 

As he looks over at Bo, who has the same shocked expression, mouth hanging open a little.

"You- you can see him?" Michael asks, obviously taken off guard, looking back at Rich, who had pushed himself up. 

"Why can I see him?" He asks instead of giving a direct answer, but the question init of itself answered Michael's. "Is that your S.Q.U.I.P? Why do you have a S.Q.U.I.P?" His questions are coming out rushed, like he's scared. His eyes looked panicked, like a cornered animal. 

"Why can I see your S.Q.U.I.P?" He's definitely panicking, Michael concludes, like just seeing Bo set off his fight or flight. Michael would've acted more surprised by the new lisp if Rich didn't look like he was two seconds away from trying to escape out the window

"It's a long story, but-" Michael starts, stepping forward a little, but he doesn't get to finish.

"Get out!" Rich shouts, and it doesn't really sound angry, he sounds close to tears. "I don't want anything to do with your S.Q.U.I.P, get out!" It looks like Rich is fighting for a decent breath, chest rising and falling quickly.

"I don't know why I can see him, but I don't care. I'm not doing this again." Both Michael and Bo are stunned into silence, watching Rich nearly beginning to tremble with pure fear. "I'm sorry for what I did! I didn't really want to do any of it! I didn't mean to hurt you, I'm sorry! Just please don't hurt me, please."

Here was Rich, someone who had tormented and bullied Michael relentlessly through highschool, who seemed to be so tough, shaking with tears welling up in his eyes, begging /Michael/ of all people not to hurt him. He knew it was because of the S.Q.U.I.P, but it was still surprising, to say the very least. 

"I get you want to get back at me. Please just don't S.Q.U.I.P me again. I can't do it again." He leans up more, sitting up fully with his legs pulled in, covering his face with his arms. 

Michael was stunned, and it wasn't a reach to say his brain had short circuited, leaving him at a loss for words. It takes a minute for his brain to come back online, and when it does he looks back at Bo.

"Go behind the curtains." He whispers, wanting to see if getting him out of Rich's direct line of sight would calm him down any, seeing as it was Bo who freaked him out in the first place.

Bo's eyes glance towards Rich, who still has his face covered by his arms. It's obvious he's having a panic attack, the tell-tale sign of his hitching breaths make that an undeniable claim. Considering he only began freaking out upon seeing Bo, Michael knew it had to be because of the S.Q.U.I.P. 

Luckily, he doesn't argue at all. Instead, he turns away to hide himself behind the curtains. Michael turns back to Rich once he does, who doesn't even know Bo had left. 

"Rich. . .I'm not gonna hurt you. He's not gonna hurt you. That's not why I'm here." Michael reassures, very slowly coming closer to the hospital bed until he's standing by it, right across from Rich. He didn't want to do anything that would make him panic more. 

"I don't know that. You can't trust S.Q.U.I.P's." Rich's eyes go back to him, but he scoots back on his hospital bed, putting his arm up to just put that much more space between them. "They'll get in your fucking head and make you think things. It'll take over you, you can't trust them. And you can't trust the people who have them."

Michael pauses, because that isn't exactly /wrong/. It isn't wrong at all, actually. Maybe his S.Q.U.I.P /was/ playing him, how would he know any better? He didn't know how any of this /really/ worked. 

"I know, but please, Rich. I need your help." Michael pleads, voice gentle all the while. "You have no reason to trust me, I know that, but please, hear me out, man. You're the only person I can go to." Rich gives him a weary look, which is perfectly understandable, really.

There's a look in his eyes, one that Michael can't read. His eyes go down to the hospital blanket below him, and there must be a million things running through his head right now. "How can I trust you? Right now, while I'm here, you could get back at me. How do I know you're not doing that right now?" He asks, looking back up at Michael.

He still looks scared, but that initial fight or flight seemed to be gone, replaced with something else. Something more, that Michael couldn't exactly place, though he wanted to. Like Rich might have a reason to be more inclined to trust Michael than he had originally thought. "Let me explain, please. If you still don't trust me after, I understand, and I'll leave." 

Rich's gaze met Michael's, holding it for a moment, and slowly, he rested his back against the hospital bed's headboard. "Okay, fine." He murmurs, dropping his gaze.

Michael takes a moment, giving Rich a couple moments to prepare himself before he looks back over at the curtains, seeing Bo's feet waiting under the little gap between them and the floor. Bo seems to take that as a moment to enter, probably able to sense it, considering he was in his head. 

The moment Bo comes out from behind the curtains, in full view, Rich tenses. He leans a little closer to Michael, grabbing onto his shoulder. 

The reaction surprised Michael. Not that Rich tensed, but that he immediately drew closer to Michael. It made it more apparent it wasn't exactly Michael he was afraid of, it was the S.Q.U.I.P.

He's tense, and Michael goes to rest his hand over his upper arm comfortingly, feeling Rich move to grab his hand instead of his shoulder, gripping it tightly. Michael lets him, because it's not like he minds. 

"So, what do you want?" The way he directs his question at Bo and not Michael sounds like he's also trying to protect Michael, in a way, from the thing inside his head.

"It's. . .complicated." Michael speaks up, turning his head to look at Rich, who has something flash in them the minute they face each other. He really wished he knew what Rich was thinking. 

"I mean, we don't really know what happened either. Well- I don't, anyway. S' kinda why I'm here." He starts. "Last night Jeremy's S.Q.U.I.P kinda. . .S.Q.U.I.P'ed the whole theatre club, even Mr. Reyes. I-I don't know how, but I think it was with some prop drink in the beaker they used in the play. Jenna probably helped, but she was given one, I think. That's how I got S.Q.U.I.P'ed though, at the play, I mean. Brooke forced me to take one." He explains, although brief, and his words come out like a jumbled mess. There was just so much in his head, and it was all moving too fast. 

Rich looks horrified, to say the least. Who wouldn't, to be honest? 

Bo cuts in, crossing his arms behind his back, still upholding a distance between him and the pair. "It appears Jeremy's S.Q.U.I.P has almost taken control of every S.Q.U.I.P given to the students thus far. We do not know how yet. His S.Q.U.I.P seems to have been programmed differently than the others. He appears to be upgraded, while the others seem to have been downgraded. No student who's S.Q.U.I.P'ed right now can function past the bare minimum alone, and around Jeremy's S.Q.U.I.P, they can't make their own decisions."

"Like zombies." Michael adds for a little more clarification, looking back at Rich, their eyes meeting again. "It's like mind control."

Rich doesn't respond for a few moments, likely thinking. "So what about your S.Q.U.I.P? How do you know he's not being controlled by Jeremy's S.Q.U.I.P?" He questions, looking back and forth between Michael and Bo. 

"Well, I don't know that for sure, but I'm sorta positive he's not. Obviously I can't be sure, I don't really know how this works at all, but when he first started up he asked me 'what is my purpose', which- that's weird right? Shouldn't he already know that?" He says, eyebrows pulling together a little in confusion. 

"Uh, I mean, yeah? My S.Q.U.I.P knew what I wanted immediately." Rich looks at Bo, who is acting like he wasn't even evolved in the conversation, expression blank. 

"That's what I thought! It just seemed. . .off to me, and- he kinda gave me a bunch of information? Like, if he was with Jeremy, I think the last thing he would want to do is give me a whole bunch of information on it, right? And surely he would've made me go into school. Like, if Jeremy's S.Q.U.I.P can control the S.Q.U.I.P's given at the play, I don't think he would've let me even come here."

"Uh, yeah, actually." Rich seems more confused than Michael, glancing at Bo out of the corner of his eye. "Has he. . .hurt you in any way? Y'know, like that whole electric shock thing?" 

Michael's eyebrows draw together, shaking his head. "No? What do you mean?" 

"Wait, so you're saying he hasn't hurt you at all? No shocks or anything?"

"No?" 

"What about when it activated?" 

"Activated? No. I didn't feel anything. I just woke up and he was there."

"It didn't hurt?"

"It's supposed to /hurt/?"

Rich looked flabbergasted, mouth ajar. They're still holding hands, though Rich is not near as tense, now obviously more consumed with just how strange the whole situation was.

He looks at Bo, sitting up a little more. "Can you shock him?" He asks, suddenly, eyebrows knitted together. 

Bo pauses, like he's trying to process the request. "Shock?" He asks for clarification, tipping his head to the side.

Rich nods.

Bo looks at Michael, who's dawned a more nervous look. "Hey, hey, hey- is this gonna hurt? Why does he even need to shock me? Rich?" He doesn't get a response, instead, Bo's eyes fade out. 

When his eyes go back on Michael, he unconsciously squeezes Rich's hand a little tighter, leaning into him, bracing himself. 

But, nothing comes.

"I can't." Bo speaks, looking at Rich. 

"Can you take. . .control of him?" 

Another pauses, checking, then he shakes his head.

"No." 

Rich sits up all the way, letting go of Michael's hand. "What the fuck?" He murmurs, a crease forming between his eyebrows. It looks like he's thinking about a million things right now, eyes almost glazed over.

"Wait, wait, wait- what does that mean?" Michael asks, leaning a little closer to Rich. "What does any of that mean? Rich?"

He looks over at his insist halting, a dazed look in his eyes that tells Michael he's thinking deeply about everything he's just been told. "When my S.Q.U.I.P activated, it hurt like a mother fucker. My S.Q.U.I.P could control my body when it needed to, and it would give these electric shocks whenever I didn't do what it wanted." 

Michael looked surprised by this information. Mainly for the fact he really was.

"It hasn't hurt at all."

"I can't shock or control Michael, nor do I want to." Bo speaks up, and the fact that seems to surprise Rich concerns Michael.

"They're supposed to want to?" He asks.

Rich nods. "Even Jeremy talked about it to me. It's awful. If you don't do what they want, or fuck up, they shock you, and if they need to, they can take /control/ of your body. You have no choice then." 

There's a silence moment, where Rich doesn't speak, but then something must come to his head. "I remember my S.Q.U.I.P mentioned that the reason it hurt so much when it activated was because it has to take control of all your nerves and shit. So, like, that's how they can inflict physical pain and stuff. He told me that, like, two years ago, when I first got the S.Q.U.I.P." 

Bo's eyes disappear for a moment, without warning, catching both Michael and Rich's attention the moment he stands up as straight as a board. 

"Did your S.Q.U.I.P do that?" 

"Not that I can recall."

Suddenly, Bo snaps back. "This is strange. I am not quite right." He points out, obviously, looking at Rich. "Why don't I function like your S.Q.U.I.P, and what can I do to change that?" 

"What? No, it's a /good/ thing. My S.Q.U.I.P was awful, no one should go through that." 

"Wait, okay so, what does this even mean? Like all of it." Michael cuts in, getting his attention once more.

There seems to be a pause from Rich, like he needs to really think about it first before he responds. "I think your S.Q.U.I.P is broken, man."

Michael doesn't know why this surprises him, really, as this seemed like the most obviously conclusion given just how his S.Q.U.I.P had acted, and how out of the ordinary he was.

"Okay, so, another question, how can you /see/ him?" Michael crosses his arms, resting them on the hospital bed as he looks from Rich to Bo.

Rich doesn't get time to really answer, as Bo goes straight for an answer. "Could not terminating your S.Q.U.I.P correctly be the cause? I'm not sure how /exactly/ it is possible for you to see me, but I've concluded that the failure to terminate your S.Q.U.I.P is one of the only unusual happenings that could be the cause of it." 

It was a better explanation then either Rich or Michael could've come up with. 

"I would suppose trying to hunt down a cause is one of the less important tasks we're dealing with right now, correct? Though, it would help to both understand where I am and where Rich is in terms of the whole S.Q.U.I.P situation. It could help determine how much of me is broken, and how much of the previous S.Q.U.I.P's technology is still in Rich."

Michael and Rich exchange a glance, and he notices he seems to grow a little more uncomfortable, sinking back a little further into the hospital bed. 

"Rich, you okay?" He asks softly, and although that was all he said, it seemed to ask the real question on Michael's mind.

"The night my S.Q.U.I.P shut off, I didn't drink Mountain Dew Red, obviously. I sorta. .snapped? It was like I just went crazy, like my mind broke. The only thing I remember other than setting the fire that night was this feeling- like my head was being spilt in two. It hurt, but I blacked out pretty quickly after I set the house on fire. I don't know why that shut my S.Q.U.I.P off, but I'm pretty certain it's gone."

Michael stays silent, so Bo speaks.

"How can you be sure?"

"I've been so used to it because I've had it for so long, I think I'd know if it was completely gone. Even when my S.Q.U.I.P was 'asleep'- or whatever you want to call it, that feeling still lingered. Of it inside me. It never really went away, but. . .I can't feel it now." He has a tight edge to his voice when talking to Bo, words coming out harsh.

There's a silence that blankets the whole room that not even the hospitals noises could penetrate, leaving each of them to drift in their own thoughts.

"So, was the fire what did it?" Michael asks after a moment, which Bo answers.

"Unlikely. It's probably the culmination of mental stress that did it. I assume that's why Rich can't remember most of that night, his mind must've purged a lot of information that night. Looks like the S.Q.U.I.P was apart of it, leaving just the scraps of it. The mind is very powerful." 

Michael moves his gaze over from Bo, back on Rich, who looks incredibly uncomfortable. His fists are clenched so hard his knuckles are white, foot swaying anxiously by the end of the bed.

"Wait, so what happened that night?" Michael asks.

Rich meets his eyes, but couldn't seem to hold his gaze, going to the scratchy hospital blanket instead. There's a faint look in his eyes, and it becomes apparent that night was much, much worse than Michael could've ever guessed, and that Rich would ever admit, of course.

"Not much to say that isn't obvious. My S.Q.U.I.P started saying some pretty shitty, crazy things, and after almost three years of it, I was done. I wanted it out. Couldn't find any Mountain Dew Red." His sentences come out choppy, like he couldn't quite find the exact way to word it all, and it's kept vague, leaving questions that needed to be asked for any sort of clarification. "I guess I kinda just freaked, and it killed the S.Q.U.I.P." He murmurs out, soft and quiet.

Michael gives Rich a gentle look, especially with the way he seemed to start shutting down. He scoots the chair even closer, if that was possible, letting his hand gently fall over Rich's in a comforting manner.

He opens his mouth to speak, but Bo interrupts him before he can get even a word out.

"Why'd you start the fire? Is that some sort of alternate way to get rid of the S.Q.U.I.P or was it an emotional outlit?"

The question gets Rich to tense again, pulling his hand away from Michael's in a knee-jerk response. "That's none of your fucking business!" He snaps, a hiss in his voice. "Fuck off. Dick." 

Michael sits up a little straighter, caught off guard by the hostility, until he looked at Rich's eyes. They seemed pained, watering at the one question. The hostile bite to his words seem to be more out of forcing it then it being genuine.

Bo doesn't get defensive, either. Instead, his expression is blank, but there's a hint of empathy in his eyes, becoming just a touch softer. 

"You're right. I should have known better. My apologies." 

The air grows tense, and Rich looks like he's ready to bolt again. 

Michael doesn't ask any of the questions that race through his mind, he only feels the sinking feeling set in his stomach.

His blood runs cold, eyes stretching a little in realization as it all sets in.

Was. .

Did Rich set that fire because. . .?

Did Rich think it would. .kill him. .?

There's a lot Michael wants to say, and an endless stream of words wanted to leave his mouth. To reassure. To make sure Rich was okay now. But, he doesn't say any of it.

It's clear Rich doesn't want him to.

So, instead, he tries to gently change the subject. "Uh, so, how long do you have left in the hospital?" 

Rich looks over at him, and it looks like he just asked another uncomfortable question. Not too uncomfortable, it seems, because Rich starts speaking.

"About a week or two. I think I can leave by Monday if I push for it." 

Michael nods, mostly to buy himself time to think of another question.

"Does it still hurt?" 

Rich looks at his left arm, the one that had burns trailing up it like a bolt of lighting, the skin gnawed and red. "Honestly? Only a little now. They're not really keeping me here for the burns anymore." 

Bo raises his eyebrows in curiosity. "Oh? Why are they still keeping you here?" He asks, and the curiosity is coming from a place of ignorance. He doesn't really understand everything about humans quite yet, so the questions are expected.

Rich looks at Bo, hesitating for a moment before his eyes land on Michael again, and he speaks, obviously seeing the shared curiosity in Michael's eyes. "Well, pity- I assume. My parents don't want me back at the house anymore. After everything that happened on Halloween, they decided it would just be best if I left. My older brother agrees, too. They haven't even come to see me since the beginning of November. I guess the nurses are keeping me here for as long as they can so I can figure out where I'm gonna go. Honestly, I'm lucky they haven't thrown me out on the streets yet."

Michael gives Rich a sympathetic look, eyebrows pulling together as a small frown settles on his lips. "That's not fair at all. Your parents shouldn't just kick you out. Right now you'd need all the support you can get." He protests.

Rich gives a bitter laugh, snorting. "Yeah, well my parents have never been good at that. They have their poster child, what do they need me for?" He snaps, voice brittle, a deep hurt lying in his words. 

Michael opens his mouth to say something, leaving it opened as he tried to think of what to say, before closing it again.

He wished he knew Rich a little better, and that this wasn't their first conversation while Rich was un-S.Q.U.I.P. Maybe he could offer more reassurance and comfort without it seeming weird. 

In that moment, Michael got an idea, spouting that instead. "So, you have nowhere to go?" He asks, earning a nod. 

"You can live at my house! Only me and my moms live there. I'm sure if I talked to them they'd be happy to let you stay for as long as you need." Michael offers, giving a chipper smile. This was like him, really. Being overly-nice got him into lots of uncomfortable situations, but he was positive Rich actually /needed/ this, so he didn't mind it.

Rich looks taken back, and that's honestly understandable. Who wouldn't be, to be fair? He probably thought Michael wanted to crush him under his heel for payback, yet here he was offering housing.

"Why?" Rich croaks out.

"Well, you're gonna help us with the whole S.Q.U.I.P situation, right? It's the least I could do." He explains. That wasn't the full truth, of course. Rich was obviously struggling right now, and he needed /someone/. Michael decided he would be that someone for him, even if it's only for a moment. 

It's Rich's turn to be speechless, mouth opened for a moment, before he closed it.

"So, how about it?" Michael asks, a cheery smile on his face all the same.

Rich hesitated, though only briefly, before nodding. "Okay." 

Michael let out a triumphant cheer, pulling his phone out of his pocket. "Nice! Okay, I'll give you my phone number, and you can call whenever you need. Or when you're discharged." He says, unlocking his phone.

"Oh, uh, I don't have my phone. It must've gotten lost on Halloween." Rich interjects, which makes Michael pauses. 

He looks at Rich, frowning a little. "Well that's no good." He says, before smiling again as a solution comes to mind. "I'll just write it down. I'm sure they have a phone here or one of the nurses could let you use theirs." He gets up, beginning to look around the room for a pen and some paper.

"There's sticky notes and a pen on that table over there." Bo points out, tilting his head to the moving tables nurses used to move their computers in and out of the rooms.

"You're a genius, Bo." Michael jokes, scribbling his number down on one of the sticky notes.

"Who's Bo?" Rich questions, only getting a response from Michael as he walked back over to the chair. 

"Huh?" He speaks, then his brain lets the question set it. "Oh! Bo, my S.Q.U.I.P." He cocks his head over to Bo, who's standing with his arms crossed behind his back again. 

"You named it?!" 

"I named /him/." 

"He's not a dog! Or your friend! He's a S.Q.U.I.P! He doesn't deserve a name!" Rich protests.

Michael gives him a smile, brushing off what he said. "And he's broken right? So he's not like the other S.Q.U.I.P's, I think he deserves a name."

"He absolute does /not/."

"Well, you can call him Bo." Michael says, giggling, obviously having his mind already set on the name. "Here," he begins, handing the sticky note to Rich, "you can call me anytime. I'm sure I'll have a lot of time this week. I'll talk to my moms about you coming over once you're discharged." 

Rich takes the sticky note gingerly , like the paper might be eaten up by flames instantly from his touch. It didn't, of course. He looks at each number, then back at Michael, who's still smiling. "Okay, thank you." Is all he can seem to manage, but it's enough for Michael.

"Of course, man, don't mention it!"

Rich seems to relax a little, like he doesn't have his guard within reach to pull up and shut them out again. Instead, he seemed to let his guard down. Way down. 

There's something in his eyes that Michael can't decode or put a name to the emotion, and it's almost like he's searching Michael like he could figure out all of his ill intentions in his gaze, if he even had any. Spoiler, he didn't. 

Rich looks away then, keeping his gaze on the blanket covering his lap instead. "Well, I guess I'll see you later, then." He says, getting a gentle smile from Michael.

"I mean, I can stay a little longer. Only if you want." He offers, timid but genuine.

This surprises Rich, looking over at Michael. He's silent again, like he's trying to see if he was just messing with him. 

Michael wasn't, of course. His parents hadn't visited him since the beginning of November, and Michael doubts anyone else had. Rich seemed like he needed someone to talk to right now.

"Uh, sure." 

Michael grins, giving a chortle. "Cool beans, man." He says, like an idiot.

"Sooo, uh-" He draws out, trying to think of what to say first, just to get a conversation rolling. "That lisp, huh? That's new."

Rich smiles, letting out a deflated sigh. "Ugh, fuck you." He shoots back jokingly, their laughs mixing in the air. "I've always had a lisp, but when I got my S.Q.U.I.P he was all like 'that's super uncool' and tried to get rid of it. Obviously, it didn't work. Now I'm just the regular, more boring version of Rich Goranski."

Michael makes a playfully dismissive 'phh' noise. "Boring? Uncool? Dude, I think the lisp makes you extra cool, in my opinion. S.Q.U.I.P's are stupid. Literally the best parts of being human are 'imperfections'." He says honestly, adjusting his glasses. 

Rich gives Michael a tender smile, something deep glittering in his eyes. "I honestly should've taken you for the sappy type." 

Both laugh. Michael gives him a lighthearted middle finger. 

Things didn't seem so bad when it was just this, and the outside was locked out there.

Turns out, Rich /did/ need someone to talk to. He really came out of his shell when Bo went into Michael's mind instead of just standing there, and that's when he started really talking.

Michael hadn't spent hours just talking to someone since Jeremy first got the S.Q.U.I.P. They clicked way too quickly, it was almost alarming. He hadn't had this happen to him since- well, /Jeremy/. Him, and that one girl at 7-11 who complimented one of the patches on his jacket, cueing Michael off into one of his stupidly passionate rants about his favourite piece of media because he was just so excited someone would ever compliment his patches.

Right now in the present, they were talking so effortlessly. It was becoming less of a need to try and make conversation and more of an after thought.

Rich was doing most of the speaking, which was completely understandable. He had probably almost three years worth of thoughts that had built up, so it all just sorta flew out of his mouth the minute someone sat down to listen to them.

Michael didn't mind any of it one bit. He hadn't spoken to anyone like this in a while, either. 

The end of visitation hours sneaks up on the pair. They had noticed the sun coming down in the window, but simply turned on one of the room's many lights. Michael had texted his moms that he'd be hanging out with Rich at the park when he noticed school hours had ended, and they kept talking. 

It was almost like the school /wasn't/ being slowly mind controlled.

The laughter felt nice, too nice, so when a nurse came in to tell Michael he had to leave, it filled him with a little dread. 

"I'll see you tomorrow if I can. If I can't make it, I'll call you." Michael says as he stands, offering a smile.

"Alright, dude, see you." Rich nods, smiling.

The goodbye is lonesome, a sad overlay to it as Michael left the room, leaving both of them alone once more.

Well, almost alone.

"He doesn't seem to like S.Q.U.I.P's very much." Bo commented as Michael left through the automatic doors, appearing by his side once more.

"Yeah, but I don't think it's /you/ specifically. I think he's just had a rough time with his S.Q.U.I.P. I don't blame him for being spooked." Michael reassures. 

"Hmm, I see. There's an underlying fear of S.Q.U.I.P's for him, even if his is gone. It seems a lot of his memories pain him. I can't imagine an attempted leave is something someone without pain would try." Bo remarks, voice direct.

"Attempted leave?" Michael echos, looking at Bo, who nods.

"It appears, to me, he set the fire that night thinking he would die in it. I think that's how he originally had thought it would remove the S.Q.U.I.P." Bo explains, answering every question Michael had once had. "Speculation, of course. But I feel it's a highly likely conclusions." 

Michael hadn't let his thoughts drift there all day. After they got lost in conversation and jokes, he hasn't thought about all the alarming things he was told.

"His parents disowned him. They won't even visit him in the hospital. No one has." Michael point out, faintly. 

Bo nods curtly. "It is not a speculation Rich is in pain right now." 

Michael grows quiet, stuffing his hands into his pockets. His stomach churns, an uneasy feeling coming over him. 

"Rich didn't want to do any of it." He murmurs softly. 

Bo raises his eyebrows, giving a short hum. "Do what?"

"Well, for the past three years Rich sorta- bullied me? But, I'm realizing now that was all his S.Q.U.I.P. It made him do awful things, just like what it's making Jeremy do now. I can't hold it against him. He's nothing like how he was." Michael explains. "I need to help him." 

Bo is silent for a moment, then nods again. "Then help him." 

Michael walks a little faster, mind moving all too fast. He needed to talk to his moms about it, he wasn't sure he could sleep if he didn't. 

"Micha, honey, is that you?" Taahira calls once he pulls open the door to his house, cool November air battling with the warm, cinnamon apple scented air inside. 

Bo disappears, retreating back into his head, allowing Michael to just be with his moms for now.

"Uh, yeah! Hey, I need to talk to you-" He spoke almost immediately. He enters the kitchen, seeing Patty focused on washing the dishes and putting them in the dishwasher. Taahira was standing next to her, leaning back against the counter. 

"We needed to talk to you, too." She counters softly. 

Michael gives a nervous smile. "Alright, you first." He says, his tone playful.

"Well, we're worried about you. You seemed to have had a rough day Thursday, and you still went into school today. You had a friend drive you- Rich, that's what you said his name was? Isn't that one of the people who made fun of you?" She frowns slightly. "Is everything okay?" 

Michael's smile fades a bit, but he then gives a small, gentle one. He knew how the whole situation seemed, so he didn't blame them at all for being worried.

"Mom, I'm okay." He reassures. "I'm smiling, aren't I?"

"No he's not. I taught him that one." Patty speaks, putting the last plate in the dishwasher. 

Michael lets out a breath, but he's still smiling. "Woah, nothing gets past you guys." He dawns a more serious look, but he still has a smile playing on his lips. "Seriously, I'm fine. Yeah, yesterday was bad, but I had a good day today. Rich and I have been getting along more recently, actually. He's my friend now."

His moms exchange an unsure glance, but Patty nods. "I'll trust you on this one, kiddo, but this conversation isn't over, okay? You'll have to tell us what happened on Thursday eventually." 

Michael's smile dims a little, nodding once more. "I will. I promise. Just- some other time." His words come out a little quieter, seeing his moms exchange another glance. 

"Alright. Just know we're here for you, and we love you." Taahira says softly, opening her arms to offer Michael a hug.

He takes it, obviously, holding on tightly for a moment. He feels Patty wrap her arms around him too, which allows Michael to finally give fully into the comfort. He had needed a hug like this.

"Are you hungry? Ina made batchoy." Taahira tips her head to the stove, where he can see a pot sitting there. 

It was right then he realized just how hungry he was. 

He nods eagerly. "Yes, please. I don't think I've eaten since this morning." Another small lie, just a little. He had nibbled on some oreos from the hospitals vending machine, but he had also shared those with Rich. He doubts four oreos is even close to a real breakfast. 

Taahira moves away from them to grab a bowl from the cabinet. They usually fixed a bowl for him instead of letting him do it himself. Well, Taahira did. She's always done that, ever since he was a young child. When Michael had asked about it she said her mom always did that for her. She also said it was probably just a Filipino thing. Michael hadn't grown up there, so he wouldn't really know. 

"So, what's been going on in your world? We haven't really spoken in a while." Patty asks just as Taahira sets the bowl in front of him, the scent making his stomach growl. 

"Salamat po." He murmurs as he picks up the chopsticks she had handed to him, getting a mouth full and swallowing before he responded. "Uh, not much, honestly." He hums, taking another hungry bite. The taste is comforting, like safety and home. 

"Yeah? How's that game you've been playing? What'd you say it was called? Bad Dragon?" Patty quizzes, tucking a piece of of bright red hair behind her ear. 

"/Double/ Dragon, my love." Taahira corrects, coming to stand besides her. 

She gets a murrow of a laugh and a playful roll of the eyes from Patty, "Sorry, sorry, /Double/ Dragon. How was I supposed to know that? More importantly how did /you/ know that?" 

"Because I bought it for him, mahal." She coos, leaning into Patty's arm as she throws it over her shoulder. 

Michael gives an amused grin, slurping down another bite before he speaks. "It's cool. Not as good as the other ones. I got Double Dragon Neon, the newest one, which would probably be my fourth favorite game in the series after playing it." He says, getting another bite in.

He should probably address it, he knows. It looms in the back of his head, nagging at him.

He sets the chopsticks down, taking a breath. "Okay, well- there was something I wanted to talk to you guys about." He begins, and his moms must expect that.

Patty tilts her head. "Is it about Thursday?"

Michael shakes his head. "No. .it's about Rich." 

He's given a curious look, Patty raising an eyebrow.

"Alright, shoot." 

Michael takes a deep breath, then begins. "Okay, so, he's not really doing good right now. He. .got into an accident-" He pauses as he starts, realizing if he continued he'd blow the whole thing.

Bo seems to awaken at his panic, appearing besides him in a mere second to help guide him through the lie.

/He got into an accident about a month ago./

Michael follows his lead.

"He got into an accident about a month ago." 

/A house fire started at a party he was at and he got burned up pretty badly. His parents are kicking him out of the house and he only has about two weeks to find somewhere to stay./

"A, uh, house fire started at a party he was at and he got burned up pretty badly. His parents are kicking him out of the house and he only has about two weeks to find somewhere to stay." 

/You're doing good./

Patty raises both eyebrows, tilting her head curiously. "Go on." 

Michael hesitates a little, but Bo lets him finish without directing him.

"He needs a place to stay," he continues, "and I was wondering if he could stay here? Even just for a little while? He really needs help right now. He's still recovering and he can't get a job. He'll have nowhere else to go." 

Both his moms glance towards each other, a hesitant look creeping onto both their faces.

"Honey. . ." Patty begins, voice gentle. "Are you sure he isn't. . .lying to you? People don't suddenly have a change of heart, even if he apologized for what he's done." 

He knew where the concern was coming from, even if it embarrassed Michael a little. He was kind to an extreme fault, and it usually came right back to bite him. He couldn't think of all the times he'd given money to people who had treated him like shit just because they fed him some fake sob story. He was working on that flaw of his.

It makes him think for a moment, before he nods. There's no way Rich would be feeding him a sob story like that. What's happening now is completely different to all the times before it. Rich was, undoubtedly, in trouble right now. He needs help, Michael was sure of it. 

"I'm positive." 

Patty and Taahira exchanged an unsure glance.

"I am! Trust me, please. This is different from all those other times, I promise. He really needs help right now." He insists.

Taahira offers a kind smile, eyebrows pulling together a little.

"Tell you what, kiddo, let us meet him first, then we'll think about it. Letting someone stay at your house -especially practically a stranger- rent free, is something you need to think about-"

Michael frowns a little.

"But, it's not a no. Put the puppy dog eyes away, skippy." 

Michael hadn't even realized. He smiles a little. He can take that. He had expected that response anyway. 

"Thank you!"

/Mention that he's busy. It helps with consistency, they'll be less likely to suspect you're lying./

Bo rings from inside his head.

"I'll have to ask when he can come over, he's a little busy at the moment." 

Patty passes by him, ruffling his hair. "Alright, little man. Now finish your food and start your homework! I know you didn't do it at the park." She calls as she heads to the bedroom. "I'm gonna head to bed." 

Taahira lets out a small sigh, but looks at Michael with a lovingly smile. "It's a pretty safe bet he'll be able to stay here, don't worry about him too much." She murmurs softly, walking over to the barstool Michael was sitting on. She presses a loving kiss to his temple, affectionately ruffling his hair as well. "I'm gonna head to bed, too. It's been a long day for both of us. We're pretty tired."

Michael looks at her, giving a loving smile right back, nodding. "Alright, I love you."

"I love you, too."

"Goodnight."

"Goodnight, mahal." She turns around with that, turning off the TV in the living room as she passes it on the way to their room, leaving Michael in silence.

He turns back to the bowl of, now luke warm, noodles. 

Bo materializes besides him.

"Things look like they'll turn out good." He comments as Michael chews through a bite, humming.

"I guess we'll just have to see how it goes from here." Michael murmurs.

His thoughts were consumed by the days events. He played over the conversation he'd just had with his moms, the one with Rich. . .everything Rich had told him. 

Like a broken record, it all played on loop. 

It kept his mind from drifting to what Jeremy had done, though it had to go there /eventually/.

"Tell me about Jeremy." Bo asks as Michael lays down, surprisingly tired even though 11 PM would usually be way early for him to even think about going to bed. The question comes out of left field, catching Michael off guard.

"Why?" He mutters curiously, taking off his glasses and setting them on the night stand. 

"You've never really spoken about him. Looking through your memories, you were quite fond of him. You two were very close." Bo remarks, sitting down atop the bedside table, balancing nimbly with the grace of a cat.

Michael tenses, crossing his arms under his pillow and resting his head atop it. The dull ache still settled in his chest, all the hurt. He just couldn't get rid of it. He tried to give Jeremy the benefit of the doubt. He tried to think that this was all the S.Q.U.I.P, that even before the play Jeremy didn't mean any of what he said.

It still hurt deeply, though.

"You love him." Those next words make Michael's skin crawl, turning his head to the side so he didn't have to face Bo.

It'd be a lie to say he didn't, because he did. He had fallen for his best friend since they were in 8th grade, when he thought nothing could ever tear them apart, and here they were now; feeling nearly a million miles apart. 

"I try not to think about it," he begins honestly, "he obviously doesn't feel the same." There's a strain to his voice, and rightfully so. It hurts to think about, much less talk about, and he's cried way too much yesterday. He doesn't need to do it now. 

Bo must pick up all of it, because no other remarks come, and he stops pushing.

"We should call Rich in the morning," he says instead, "tell him the good news." 

Michael's grateful Bo changes the subject, though the fact no reassurances came made an uneasy feeling settle in his stomach.

Perhaps he doesn't want to feed Michael false hope or empty words. 

"Sounds like a plan." He murmurs sleepily, shutting his eyes. 

He's surprised at just how quickly he falls asleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed!
> 
> Any comments or criticism is always very much appreciated!!
> 
> I appreciate every single interaction, it really motivates me to keep writing, so thank you to everyone who's left a kudos and who comment!!
> 
> Any whoo,, I'm excited for the chapters onward!! Writing Rich is really fun,,
> 
> Thank you for reading!! Until next time ^^


	4. All's Well That Ends Well

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Michael and Rich bond. 
> 
> Jeremy makes things worse.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ooooh chapter four! 
> 
> I don't know why this one took me so long, but here it is!
> 
> I hope you enjoy, and thank you for all the engagement! 
> 
> You can follow me on Instagram @sqigglemetimbers for chapter updates as I write!

Michael's eyes snap open alarmingly quick, immediately landing on the figure standing in front of his bed. 

Bo's arms are crossed behind his back, staring down at Michael. 

"I let you sleep in a little, it's 11 AM. Your body needed the rest." 

Michael pushes himself up, his dark brown hair ruffled with sleep, unkept strands of hair poking out in every direction. 

He yawns as he sits up, stretching. 

Now knowing his S.Q.U.I.P is broken, that he'd been given a faulty one, he's less scared of Bo now, and of what he still doesn't know. The extent of what Bo could or couldn't do is still unknown, but it scares him less than it had. 

Michael's mind almost immediately goes to Rich. He can't get over the fact he's alone, and has been alone. It hurts to think about. His parents discarded him in the time he needs them the most, no one has come to see him but Michael. Maybe that was because of Jeremy and the stupid shit he's doing to everyone right now, but regardless of that, /someone/ should've come to see him. 

Someone who wasn't Michael. The fact Michael had been the only one to visit him other than the nurses since the beginning of November makes a deep ache settle in his chest. 

Not even his parents had.

Bo stands by the bed as Michael gets ready, in the same pose as he had been when he woke Michael up, arms locked behind his back.

Michael looks at him as he exits the bathroom, giving him a curious look as he moves to pull on a pair of sweatpants, adjusting the baggy graphic tee he was wearing. 

"Why do you stand like that?" He asks suddenly.

Bo stands more at attention, raising his eyebrows. "Like what?" 

"Like, all proper and stuff," Michael points out, puffing his shoulders up and mocking his stance, "you look like you work as a royal guard for, like, Queen Elizabeth or something." His posture returns to it's usual relaxed stature as he laughs at his own joke.

Bo lets his arms fall down by his sides. "I'm sorry to upset you, it's just how I've been programmed. It's supposed to be a sign of respect." 

Michael's smile fades a little, remembering then Bo doesn't really get jokes like that yet. "I was just messing with you, man. You didn't /actually/ upset me. I just thought it was kinda funny." His smile returns to his lips. "Also, you don't have to be all. . .y'know, respectful and stuff. I'm not above you or in charge of you or anything." 

Bo cocks his head to the side. "But my purpose is to serve you. To help you achieve what you want. You /are/ in charge of me. That's the reason for my conception." 

Michael gives a small chortle, walking past him as he grabs his phone from his nightstand. "I'm /not/ in charge of you," he corrects, "I think of you as a friend right now." 

This seems to confuse Bo a little, but as he opens his mouth to speak, Michael looks at his phone.

"Oh." He says in his disappointment, smile completely vanishing.

Bo abandons what he was about to say next, instead looking down at the phone in his hand. "Something the matter?"

Michael looks at the empty notification bar, pursing hus lips for a moment as he thought. "Huh, no missed calls at all." He comments as he plugs his headphones into the headphone jack, resting them around his neck for now.

Bo thinks for a moment. "It would've been helpful to have gotten a number to call from one of the staff members." He points out to him. 

"How long have visitation hours been open?" 

"They open at 8 a.m. So, it's been about three hours. Why does this bother you so much?" Bo quizzes. 

Michael gives an affirmative hum, clicking his phone off and putting it into his pajama pants pocket. "I guess I just sorta expected Rich to have called by now." He explains as he heads for his bedroom door, Bo following close behind. He's put his hands in his anorak pockets now, no longer holding them behind his back. 

"He could be asleep." Bo suggests, like a way to ease Michael's apparent nervousness. "Or maybe he's nervous to call you. From how he was when we spoke to him, he probably doesn't want to bother you. Humans have a tendency to doubt themselves and if they're wanted. Maybe he thinks you don't want him to call." The suggestion gets Michael's brain racing, falling silent. 

He bites the inside of his cheek, frowning. It was strange to think about. For three years, Rich had been this confident, almost scary, guy who pushed around everyone who looked at him the wrong way. 

Knowing now that it was the S.Q.U.I.P, and he was forced to do all of it whether he wanted to or not, made it all seem a lot darker. Now Rich was nothing like what Michael always knew him to be like. It seemed he didn't have an ounce of confidence or self-esteem in him.

"But I do want him to call. ." Michael murmurs softly, not really expecting a response, as he says it more to himself.

The kitchen is completely empty as Michael makes it to the bottom of the stairs, the normal background noise of the T.V not even on. It lets him know his mom's are still asleep. It's Saturday, and they both work, so it's expected they usually take the weekends to sleep in. 

He turns the stove on, getting a small pot and filling it with water from the sink before setting in on the burner, then turning to the pantry. 

"Breakfast is important." Bo comments as he observes him. "Is that what you're making right now?" 

Michael turns back to him as he speaks, closing the large pantry door with his foot. He sets the bag of rice and unsweetened coco powder down onto the counter, nodding his head. 

"But not for me, it's for my moms." He says, getting out some measuring cups.

Bo leans over his shoulder, observing what he was doing with a curious look. "Ah, I see. What are you making?"

"Champorado," he answers as he measures out the rice, "it's Taahira's favorite, and Patty likes it, too. We usually make it when it gets cold like this." He explains, turning back to the sink to wash the rice.

"Plus, it's the least I can do for them. They've had a rough week, and I know I haven't made it any better. I've probably got them all stressed out." The further explanation for his actions weren't asked for, though Michael shared it anyway. 

"So, making meals for someone is another way of apology or comfort?" Bo tilts his head.

Michael thinks for a moment before shrugging. "It could be. Sometimes it's just to be nice or show someone you care about them." 

His back is to Bo as he cooks, who had sat himself atop the granite countertop.

"Strange, but interesting." Bo notes, voice sounding mystified. He seems to be keeping tabs on the strange behaviors humans have that Michael explains to him. q

"Definitely. I never really thought about it, but humans are pretty weird." Michael jokes, pulling his phone out of his pocket. 

He doesn't move his headphones from where they rest around his neck, but he does start playing a song. It's faint coming from the headphones, but he can hear it just fine.

"So, will you not be eating breakfast? Humans need food to function, just from looking at this scientifically." Bo asks. 

Michael lets out a small hum, shrugging. "Yeah, not right now though, but later. I think I'll hit 7/11 on the way to visit Rich today." 

"Ah, I see, so we'll be visiting Rich today as well?" 

Michael nods. "That's the plan. I'm hoping my moms don't get too suspicious about it. But seeing as I can't call, I should visit."

There's a silence that falls after he answers, only a small 'hm' of confirmation of Bo.

"Why do you listen to music?" He asks, breaking the silence. 

Michael gives a small chuckle, letting out a sigh. Bo asks questions like a curious toddler, which is understandable, really. It doesn't annoy him at all, though it is amusing.

"Uhh, I don't know. I think it just sounds nice. I'm used to listening to it all the time, so sometimes it feels weird not having it on." He explains, stirring the rice in the pot as it bubbles.

There's yet another small hum, and the silence is much longer this time.

Bo's pupils had faded out a moment ago as the silence grows longer, leaving the faint whisper of music the only real sound filling the room. 

Bo is still faded out when Michael sets the bowls out, only coming back to reality as he's placing fruit into the bowls. Blueberries in Taiga's and raspberries in Patty's. 

Of course, he had all their favorite things down.

They don't get a chance to exchange any words before his mom's wake up, walking into the kitchen. 

They both look tired, with Patty immediately heading for the coffee machine. Taahira doesn't drink coffee all too often, but she follows behind her, wrapping her arms around Patty's waist and leaning her head against her back, resting against her as she fixed herself a cup of coffee. 

"Good morning," Michael chirps to the sleepy pair.

Taahira answers with a small 'mh', eyes closing. Patty glances back at him, smiling. "Good morning." She chirps back, hitting start on the coffee maker. 

"I made breakfast." Michael says, glancing towards Bo, who's still sat atop the counter. They make eye contact, and as they do, Bo disappears, retreating back into Michael's mind. 

"Oooh, nice. That's what I smelled when I walked in." She says. "Thank you, Micha." She pats Taahira's arm lovingly. "Go sit down, love. I'll be right there after I finish making myself a cup of coffee." She gets a sleepy grumble of protest, before Taahira stands on the tip of his toes, pressing a gentle kiss to her cheek. 

It's only then she moves to sit down, eyes lighting up a little as her bowl gets set in front of her, like she hadn't registered what Michael had said until the bowl was placed in front of her. Patty seems to have the same reaction as she sits down, cup of coffee in hand.

"You didn't have to go through all the trouble." Taahira says, looking back up at him. "Thank you, Micha." 

Michael waves his hand dismissively. "Don't worry about it. You guys had a rough week, and I've probably been stressing you both out this week anyway. 'S the least I could do." 

Patty smiles up at him, then looks down at the bowl. "I'm surprised he remembered I like raspberries." She comments, getting a scoff from Michael.

"Excuse you, I remember everything. It's not like I've seen you eat any other fruit /but/ raspberries." He shoots back playfully. 

Patty gives a scoff this time, laughing. "Oh, because you're Mister Observant." 

"Yes, actually." 

They both laugh, ending the little joking quips between them.

Patty takes a bite, giving Taahira the chance to speak next.

"So, where's yours?" She asks. 

Michael's smile slightly fades, a sinking feelings settling in his stomach. "Oh, uh," He starts, taking a moment to give any real answer.

No matter what he says, he'll worry them again. He knows he will. Making them breakfast won't help at all. It'll just add to it, won't it? 

Great, it only seemed like he succeed in aiding their worry. 

"I was actually gonna stop by 7-11 on the way to Rich's house and get breakfast there." He finally says, pausing the music in his headphones. "I was- well, you know. He needs a friend right now, I wanna be there for him as much as I can. Things are, like, really bad at his house, and he told me it's better when I'm there."

Patty frowns a little through a bite. "Who's driving you there?" She counters, voice a little muffled as she chews.

"Uh,"

/Rich will pick me up at 7-11./

His S.Q.U.I.P supplies, much to his relief.

"Rich is gonna pick me up at 7-11. Then we'll probably go to his house, maybe hang out at the park for a bit."

There's a moment where neither respond, and there's some disappointment in the way Patty chews this time.

"What time will you be back?" She asks.

"Uh," he draws it out, buying himself enough time to think of an answer, "probably around 6?" He didn't want to give them too late of a time, because then it'll probably make them even more worried or suspicious. 

Taahira frowns a little, which didn't really seem upset as much as it seemed sad. "It just feels like we've hardly seen you this week. You haven't really talked to us much since Thursday." 

"And you're leaving again today." Patty adds, and again, it sounds distraught more than anything. 

Michael's eyebrows draw together, looking at the both of them. 

He doesn't respond for a moment, still trying to think of how to. 

They're right, he knows. There probably isn't much he could say that would really reassure them. They picked Michael up off the side of the road Thursday while he was an absolute mess, and he hadn't even given them so much as a real reason why he was so torn up. So far now, he's been trying to leave every day since then to hang out with Rich, which had to be suspicious to his parents.

Bo thinks he's drawn it out his response too long, apparently, because he decides to give Michael something to say.

/It's just a way to get my mind off it. The whole- add a pause for effect- Jeremy thing./

Michael stills even more. His eyes go to the ground.

[I]I know you feel bad for lying, but there's nothing you can do right now. You have a problem they couldn't even begin to understand. Lying is the only way to keep them happy and still fix what's going on without interruptions. 

He thinks deeply about what Bo's saying, blood running a little cold as he does. He's not exactly wrong, as much as Michael hates to think about it. 

He'd always been close to his moms, but that won't help, he knows. They won't believe him if he's honest about what's really going on, no matter how close they are.

"I guess. . .hanging out with Rich kinda takes my mind off of it." That part is not truly a lie. Because it really did help with keeping his mind off Jeremy and what's he's done, and what he's currently /doing/.

Being out and having a goal to focus on keeps his mind off of what happened with Jeremy. That his best friend, someone he'd loved so deeply, and still does no matter how hard he tries not to, no longer wants to even see Michael's face. 

"I don't like being stuck in the house thinking about it." There's more he wants to say, but in that moment he can feel tears pooling up in his eyes, so he stops talking.

His S.Q.U.I.P is silent, not trying to redirect him to say what he had instructed him to. 

Maybe he deemed what Michael was currently saying as enough.

He blinks a couple times, quickly bringing his hand up to wipe at his eyes before any tear can make it down his cheek.

He doesn't say much, and for a a moment neither does his parents, until Taahira speaks.

"We understand that." She murmurs softly. "We're just. . .worried for you." That won't be the last time he hears that before it's all over, he knows. 

"I know, I'm sorry." He returns, equally as soft as hers had been.

Patty smiles then, taking another bite of her food. Her eyes are still glazed over with the same worry that could be found in Taahira's, but she keeps the smile on her face. "Well, thank you for making us breakfast. Make sure to be back at 6, no later. We need to go to the flea market today." 

Michael gives a smile back. He nods, swallowing around the lump in his throat. "Got it. Right at six, you can count on me." His smile grows more chipper to ease any of their worry, passing by them to go upstairs. "I love you guys!" He calls as he goes up the stairs, hearing them call back.

Once he's made it to the top of the stairs, Bo appears by his side once more.

"It hurts you." He says, obviously from observing Michael's reaction to speaking about it to his moms.

"What does?" Michael asks as he walks into his room, shutting the door with his foot.

"Lying to them, and not only that, thinking about Jeremy hurts you." He observes. "Why don't you talk about it? Holding that sort of hurt in is never a good thing." They both go silent, with Bo's gaze staying on Michael, waiting for a response.

But he doesn't get one, instead Michael continues changing. 

"But," he begins, deciding he would continue if Michael wouldn't speak, "you shouldn't feel guilty about lying to them, because you weren't really lying back there, were you? You didn't tell them the full truth, but you weren't lying." 

Michael pulled a sweater over his bare chest, his back to Bo. He wasn't wrong, not at all. 

Being out of the house instead of lying in his bed or giving all his attention to people who actually seemed to care, did help to keep his mind off all the hurt. 

The list of people who actually cared seemed to be low. After Jeremy ditched him, it only consisted of his moms, and that one worker at 7/11, as sad as that was.

Now he could add Rich to that list, an unexpected addition but definitely a welcomed one. 

"No, I wasn't." He confirms as he sits down on the edge of his bed to put on his shoes, but that's all he says.

Thinking about it makes a deep ache settling in his chest. He bites the inside of his cheek, trying to stop focusing on it as it slowly tried to become a more permanent ache that he could never stop even for a second. 

He stood once he tied the laces, pushing up the long sleeves of his Pokèmon shirt so that they rest at his elbows. "Alrighty, to the hospital we go." He announced as cheerfully as he could, slipping his headphones around his neck again. 

"After you stop for breakfast like you promised." Bo interjects, making a smile creep onto Michael's face. 

"To the hospital after we stop at 7/11!" He agrees. 

Michael keeps his promise, stopping at 7/11. It was across the street on the way there, so it wasn't too far.

He stands in front of the slushie machine, looking at the flavors. He decides on Cherry, of course, but reaches for another cup. 

"For Rich?" Bo asks as he does, looking at him.

Michael opens his mouth to respond, but Bo interrupts before he can even get so much as a syllable out.

"In your mind, Michael."

He closes his mouth, smiling to himself a little in amusement. 

Oh. Right. I don't think I'll ever get used to that.

/You will./

But, yeah, I am. I don't know if he even likes them though. Or what flavor he likes.

/Try blue raspberry. If he doesn't like that one you could always offer him your cherry slushie instead. It's a 50/50 chance./

Michael raises his eyebrows, letting out a hum. 

Smart thinking. 

/I know./

He walks up to the cashier, setting two medium slushies and a bag of Chex-Mix on the counter, pulling out his wallet once his hands were free.

It's the same cashier he's used to seeing, and she offers him a smile.

"Two slushies this time, huh?" She asks.

Michael grins, laughing a little. "Yeah, I'm seeing someone today." 

"What a romantic first date." She quips back jokingly, ringing up the items. "$6.85, my good sir." 

Michael smiles as he hands over a ten dollar bill. "Not like /that/." 

"Oh? Don't you know bringing someone a slushie is peak flirting?" 

Michael laughs at that, pocketing his receipt and change she handed back to him. "I'll keep that in mind for when I manged to find a guy who actually likes me." 

She laughs at that. "Hey, New Jersey is full of men your type. Hit up the local comic shop a couple blocks from here, you'll find em'." 

He waves goodbye as he walked for the door, each chirping back a friendly goodbye. 

Bo walks in time to Michael's steps effortlessly, hands resting in his pockets. 

"Who is she?" 

"Oh! Uh, I think her name is Eileen. We talk sometimes because I come to that 7/11 a lot. She's in college, I think." 

"You both are friends?"

"Yeah, a little." 

Bo thinks for a moment. "You don't know a lot of people, do you?" 

Michael pursues his lips, then shakes his head. "I thought that was obvious."

Bo gives a hum, tilting his head. "On a basic level, I suppose." He shrugs. 

Michael smiles again, adjusting the slushies in his hand. There's one occupying each hand, and a bag holding the Chex-Mix hanging off his arm.

He enters the hospital with the same nervousness he had had the day before, even a little more so. 

He goes up to the counter, seeing a different women. 

/Relax, you're fine./

Bo reassures.

He was fine, because she lets him through without saying much of anything. He doesn't know why he gets so nervous about it all, honestly. 

Bo still has to direct him to the room, forgetting the simple route in all his racing thoughts. 

Michael pushes the door open with his back, still entering the room anxiously. It's still only Rich occupying the room. 

"Heyo!" He announces his presence, coming into view only a few moments later. 

Rich is awake, already looking at him. He looks surprised, and his face is a little red and blotchy, like he'd been crying just moments prior. Upon seeing the still drying drops of tears on the hospital blanket in his lap, Michael knows that suspicion is right.

His expression falters a little upon the realization, but he doesn't ask, mainly because Rich keeps him from doing so.

"Headphones! Hey, I didn't think you were coming today." He speaks, wiping at his face almost subconsciously, trying to get rid of any leftover tears. It's clear he doesn't want to talk about it, so Michael doesn't bring it up. Instead, he makes a mental note to keep Rich smiling the whole time he was there.

Michael smiles a little at the nickname, eyebrows drawing together. The nickname used to torment him, but now Rich seemed to be using it as a term of endearment.

"Oh, yeah, well, I'm not really doing much with my Saturday." He explains, moving to sit down in the hospital chair, scooting it a little closer to the hospital bed. "I got you a slushie, if you want it." He holds up the two, watching Rich bring the hospital bed up to a comfortable sitting position where he could still lie back against it.

He gently takes the blue raspberry one from Michael's hand, though it's a little timid. He stares down at it, like he's confused as to why Michael would bring him anything at all, or even see him. 

"I know you didn't call, but I figured I'd surprise you." Michael adds as a joke, watching Rich take a sip of the slushie hesitantly. 

"Thank you." He murmurs softly, and he looks a little pained, like there's something he wants to say, but he doesn't say a word other than that small murmur.

"Of course! No worries, man."

Bo appears by Michael's side again, sitting down onto the arm rest of the chair he was currently occupying. 

Rich holds the cup a little tighter, tensing up as he looks at Bo. "You still give me the creeps." He speaks, voice full of that lisp Michael had very quickly grown to adore. 

Michael gives a small chuckle, looking at Bo. "You can go inside my mind again. I can take it from here." 

Bo raises an eyebrow, crossing his arms.

"I promise it's not personal." He adds.

Bo merely shrugs, letting his body fall towards Michael as he lets go of the arm rest. Michael flinches instinctively, tensing, only to feel nothing. Bo had disappeared before he even touched him. 

"Your S.Q.U.I.P has serious attitude." Rich remarks, taking another sip of the slushie in his hand.

Michael laughs softly, pushing his glasses up. "Don't all S.Q.U.I.P's?" He asks jokingly, having no real way of knowing something like that. 

"I mean, /yeah/, technically, but considering your S.Q.U.I.P is broken that's even weirder." He chides back, but it's joking in tone.

Michael laughs, taking a sip of the cherry slushie in his hands. "So, how have you been since, well, yesterday?" He asks, resting on elbow on the bed.

Rich lets out a hum, speaking after a sip. "Existing." He responds, giving Michael a toothy smile. 

Michael scoffs playfully. "Smartass." 

They shared a laugh then, going back and forth with jokes and quips.

Michael leans back in the chair, finally opening the bag of Chex-Mix. He pops a piece in his mouth, stomach growling at the small taste of food, letting him know it had been way too long since he'd last eaten. 

Rich raises his eyebrows, snickering. "Are you really eating Chex-Mix for lunch?" He asks, a hint of amusement in his voice. 

"Uh, /no/. I'm eating it for breakfast, actually." He answers. 

Rich laughs, rolling his eyes. "Ah, yeah, cuz' that's any better." 

"Well, excuse you, what did you eat for breakfast then? If you're suddenly a dietitian." 

Rich pauses, having to think for a moment.

Michael raises his eyebrows. "Yeah?"

"Shut up, headphones! I'm thinking." 

Michael snorts playfully.

"Fuckin- uh, a fruit cup." 

Michael giggles. "Oh, yeah? A single fruit cup?" 

"And half a waffle! Fuck you." 

Michael laughs, popping a pretzel into his mouth. He holds the bag out towards Rich. "Here. Slushies and Chex-Mix, lunch is served." 

Rich rolls his eyes, but laughs, taking a coule pieces. 

"That's definitely not lunch." Rich remarks, but even when the hospital's meals came in, only to be set aside, it was clear the Chex-Mix and Slushies /was/, in fact, lunch for the pair. 

Michael sets the melted, near empty cherry slushie on the hospital's bedside table, setting Rich's down as well as he hands it to him. The Chex-Mix is empty, and the sky is now tinting, showing just how much time had past since Michael had first arrived hours ago.

The time flies by so fast, just like it had yesterday. It makes his stomach sink at the thought that he'd have to leave soon.

They seemed to click so well, and they /were/. 

He doesn't notice when it had neared 6 until his phone chimes with a text from Patty at 5:45. 

'Don't forget, 6.' was all it said, but Michael understood.

"Ah, shit." He says, frowning.

"What's wrong?" Rich asks. 

"My mom texted me, I'm supposed to be back at 6. We're going to the flea market, I think." 

He knows Rich tries to hide it, but he can't hide all the disappointment that clouds his gaze as his words.

"Oh, okay. You should get home. It is Saturday, you should spend it with your parents." Rich encourages.

Michael gives a sad sort of smile. "My moms don't mind me being here, Rich. Don't worry about them." He reassures, because even if Rich didn't say it, he knew that's what went through his head. "I'll be here tomorrow, then." He adds, giving a happier smile.

Rich returns it, nodding. "You know where to find me." He jokes a little, the both of them sharing a chuckle. 

It's somber as Michael leaves, though. He wishes he didn't have to.

Bo appears next to him as the chilly November air washes over him, making him regret the decision to wear only a thin long sleeved shirt. 

There's a silence that comes over them, sharing only minimal conversation. He had more focus on rushing home.

He makes it home at exactly 6:10, panting as he got through the door. 

Patty is already waiting by the door, purse under her arm. "Ah! It's 6:10! You're ten minutes late!"

Michael lets out a dramatic groan. "Ughhh, I tried my best! Rich-" He pauses, but luckily Bo fills it in before gives away where exactly he was at. 

/Rich couldn't drive me home./

"-couldn't drive me home!" 

Patty doesn't seem to notice the near slip up, giving a laugh. "Uh huh. Go upstairs and get dressed! We're about to leave."

"But I am dressed!"

"In something warmer! It's too cold for just that." 

He knew she was right, so he rushed back up the stairs. 

He came back down swiftly, dressed in a much warm hoodie, one lined with a fluffy material on the inside. 

Even at the flea market, his mind was focused on Rich. 

Not like he could forget about him even for a mere moment. 

Bo wakes him up early the next morning, and just like yesterday, no call from Rich.

He still shows, though, just like he'd promised the day before, much to his parents dismay 

He knew they wanted to spend more time with him, but he also knew Rich needed him. 

"Dude, okay, so we were at the flea market yesterday and-" 

"Yeah?" 

He takes out a small charger from the bag, setting it in Rich's lap. "I found this!" 

Rich picks up the charger, eyeing it curiously. "A charger?"

"A /DS/ charger. I lost the charger to my DS a while ago, and some stand selling video games had one that fit my DS." He explains as he takes the DS out next, setting it in Rich's lap.

"I thought you'd like it. I know you only have, like, a week left here, but I thought it might keep you from getting bored." Bo had been the one to suggest it once the charger caught his eye, and Michael thought it was one of the best ideas Bo had had so far.

The DS might help keep Rich company while Michael couldn't be there.

Rich picks up the DS with delicate fingers, like it might combust in his hands.

Michael rests the bag he had brought with him on his lap, taking out a small box that held a different variety of DS games he had collected over the years. "You can play Super Mario, and I have every Legend Of Zelda game for the DS, and almost every Pokèmon game so far. There's more in this holder, if you'd wanna give it a look." 

Rich looks at it for a moment, cocking an eyebrow. 

"I, uh, haven't really used a DS before." Rich says, looking caught off guard by it all.

Michael offers a warm smile, giggling. "No worries, I can teach you! Not to brag, but I'm a beast at the DS." 

Michael ends up with his head resting on Rich's shoulder, directing him through the game. Rich hadn't been joking when he said he hadn't used one in a while. 

Rich had chosen Majora's Mask, mainly because he just thought the picture on the cartridge looked cool. Michael had to do the opening scene for him because it was too fast for Rich to keep up.

"Okay, okay, okay so basically you move with the little plus thingy. Like-" 

Rich moves Link to the right, then gets him to move forward. 

"Like that!" 

"What do I do now?" 

"Oh, okay, so you need to go into that building right there and I think there's gonna be a guy there wanting to strike a deal and turn you back to normal."

Rich makes Link walk up the platform, only to be stopped right before he got through the door.

As the camera pans to the merchant, Rich groans. "Who's this idiot? This is annoying, why do they stop you right before everything? All they do is talk about shit I don't care about."

Michael giggles a little. "That's the point! It's supposed to be important dialogue. But, yeah, I think that's the guy who wants to turn you back to normal." 

"He should turn himself back to normal, he looks fucking weird." 

Michael laughs at that, cheek pressed against Rich's shoulder. "All the characters look weird, this was made in, like, 2008. The graphics gonna be wonkey."

"This is really what you do in your spare time?" Rich asks. 

"Yeah! It's fun. Once you get to my house we can play on my PS4. I have games other then Legend of Zelda or Pokèmon and stuff." Michael says, watching Rich progress through the game. 

"Like?" He asks, promoting Michael.

"Oh, well, I have Resident Evil, and Metal Gear Solid. That seems like stuff you'd be into. I also have shootemup's, like Apocalypse of the Damned. It's a zombie game." 

The mention of that game brings Michael memories he wished he didn't have to associate with that game. The DS, too. 

Memories of him and Jeremy playing on the game console until late at night, laughing through the levels. Or when they were still in Middle School, they'd curl up on Michael's bed and it would usually be Michael watching Jeremy playing the games on his DS that he'd already completed. 

His heart aches at that, but he doesn't say anything about. Even if he tries to distract himself, the sinister thought of what was going on with his best friend creeped into his head and made him feel sick. 

He'd have to go back to school eventually, or one day he'd be caught by his parents and it would be clear he hadn't been going to school at all. He wasn't scared about getting caught, though. He knew that every day he didn't show up, things got worse and worse.

That's what his brain was telling him, anyway. He knew he always expected the worse possible outcome out of every situation he was in, and most of the time it all turned out fine. He hoped that was the case now. 

He /knew/ Jeremy. Even if the last two months came as a surprise, doing things he never would've expected from his best friend, he knew Jeremy wasn't a bad person. Jeremy wouldn't go any farther than what he had during the play. 

But, he's being influenced, isn't he? The S.Q.U.I.P has already made him do things Michael didn't think he could ever do, /especially/ during the play. 

No. No, no, no. That was his brain was trying to trip him out. He knew Jeremy, he had faith in him. It would all work out in the end, right? 

It had to.

The next day, that Monday, Michael showed up at the hospital again. He didn't know what was happening at school, but the dread that had filled his stomach once he had gotten ready for it the next morning was too much. 

He felt like he could throw up as his brain ran through scenario after scenario. 

Michael almost got found out that morning if it wasn't for Bo's quick thinking. He still didn't have his backpack, and Taahira had asked him if he found it on Friday. The problem was, he hadn't gone to school Friday. 

The excuse Bo had thought of for still not having it was that it wasn't where he had left it, and that the janitor must've thrown it away.

His moms believed him, as annoyed as they were at the fact his backpack had been thrown away, though Michael was able to quell that annoyance by using his old Transformers messenger bag that he had actually used as a backpack in middle school. 

Though, he wasn't actually going to school. What he had in the messenger bag was his phone charger and laptop, and that was all he was armed with on his way to the hospital. 

And a poptart, of course.

The women working that week was the same one who had greeted Michael the first time he had visited Rich, her greetings becoming shorter and shorter with each day he showed up. 

"Wow, you two must be really good friends." She comments on Thursday, when Michael had been coming every single day without fail since Friday. 

He hadn't really meant to, because each day he told himself he would just go into school, but the anxiety always sent him in the direction of the hospital. 

Michael gives a small laugh, nodding. "Yeah, you could say." 

"Do you still go to school? Or are you helping him catch up a little?" Her question catches him off guard, halting his movements as he tenses up.

/Don't freeze up. Smile, keep calm./

Bo directed. 

Michael did as he was told, though his smile was definitely nervous. 

If he blew this, there was no way she wouldn't call his moms, or try to.

/Good. Now say, 'oh, yeah! He's missed a couple lessons, just getting him caught up!'./

"Oh, yeah! He's missed a good couple of lessons, just getting him caught up!"

/You're doing good./

The women offers him a smile that eases his nerves, chuckling softly. "You're a really good friend, you know. You doing this for him. You're the only one I've seen visit him." She comments.

Those words echo around his mind that night, even if that was an obvious truth Michael had already realized the first time he had visited Rich.

He figures they can't continue to run from it, or at least /he/ can't. They hadn't really spoken much about Jeremy since last Friday, and he knows they need to.

Michael would show up and Bo would go back into his head, then he would watch him play on the DS while they both made jokes. Or they'd watch something on Michael's laptop while sharing whatever he'd bought from 7/11 that day on the way there.

He would always make a note to bring it up, but he never did.

Until Friday. 

"So, uh, I don't think I'll be able to come during the weekend." Michael starts, getting Rich to look up from the DS. "My moms don't want me to be gone so much, especially because I've been telling them that I was staying after school this whole week. I think they're getting a little suspicious." 

Rich looks at Michael for a moment, then nods. "I understand." He says, and it's evident in his eyes that the news saddens him, even if it's faint. 

"But, you can always call! I think it might help them not be as suspicious because they know where I am. I don't think they think I'm /lying/, but, y'know. Parent things." He's rambling a little, but Rich's soft smile gets his brain to halt, reassuring him that Rich /does/ understand. 

"Yeah, I get it. I guess I should probably start asking if there's a phone I can use or anything." He says, Michael's heart flipping a little at the prominent lisp.

It was just cute.

Michael gives a smile back. "If you can't, I should be able to be back on Monday. I don't think they're catching onto the fact I haven't actually gone to school yet."

After he says those words, his expression to fall a little. "I still have no idea what's happening there. I know I have to go back eventually, I still have to try and- well, stop Jeremy. He's turning the whole school into his mob of mindless zombies." He bites the inside of his cheek, looking down a little. 

There's a silence that falls over the pair, both seeming to fall back into their thoughts, until Rich speaks.  
"I can go back to school with you when I get out of here. You shouldn't go alone." He offers, voice coming out delicate and brittle, like the prospect scares him, but he's adamant on not letting Michael go alone.

Michael tilts his head up to meet Rich's gaze, nodding. "Yeah, Yeah. That sounds like it would be safer than going alone."

He bites the inside of his cheek again, a certain thought spiralling through his head.

"Do you think he meant to do it?" He can't help but asl.

Rich raises an eyebrow. "What do you mean?"

"You know, S.Q.U.I.P all those students, and say what he said to me," he elaborates, "like, it had to be the S.Q.U.I.P controlling him, right? Didn't you say they can control you? Do you think he doesn't /want/ to do what he's doing right now?" He's desperate to be reassured, and maybe Rich can see that, because he only hesitates for a moment or two before he responds. 

"I mean, I didn't want to do any of the stuff I did to you. It. . it knew I-" He pauses, and he doesn't finish that thought. "Whatever. What I'm trying to say is, it takes control of you, it makes you do things. I think that's the same with Jeremy now." Rich speaks as if he doesn't believe his words, but Michael was desperate for the comfort that he didn't focus on that part too much.

"So, it /is/ Jeremy's S.Q.U.I.P doing it? It's not Jeremy?" He asks, a mix of doubt in his voice.

"They're very manipulative. Either he's being controlled, or maybe the S.Q.U.I.P just took over his head and made him lose it. Either way, I don't think it was all Jeremy. But it should be okay once the S.Q.U.I.P is deactivated."

Rich's reassurance is enough to ease the way his brain was nagging at the back of his mind, even if he sort of danced around the question instead of giving an indefinite answer. 

It seemed like Rich didn't want to feed him any false hope. 

Bo suddenly appears next to the chair Michael was sitting in, resting against the arm rest of it. "If we don't try and stop it soon enough, he might just loose his mind forever. I think this week made us a little too close to that outcome to be comfortable." He takes the opportunity that they're finally talking about it to interject. 

He crosses his arms, then looks at Rich, who tenses under his gaze. 

"What?" He grits through clenched teeth. 

"When is the latest you get discharged?" Bo asks, not reacting to the harsh tone in Rich's voice.

He doesn't answer for a good few moments, then says stiffly, "Monday." 

Bo gives a hum, nodding. "Good. Michael, you need to go back to school by Tuesday. It would be reckless and irresponsible of us to drag it out any longer." He insists. 

Rich gives a small scowl. "Yeah, well, we were going back anyway. We just agreed on it before /you/ showed up."

Michael gently rests a hand on Rich's arm, like a way to sooth him. "We will, Bo." He nods, looking up at him with a small, nervous smile. "What's got you so anxious to get back so soon?"

Bo pauses for a moment, eyes going blank and hollow before he speaks again. He snaps back to reality, face looking grim. "Hm, it's like I had thought. The number of new S.Q.U.I.P's that have been activated from Monday til today is alarming. There's no way to tell if they're residents in New Jersey or not, but either way, it's far too much, and it has to be linked to Jeremy in some way."

Michael's smile drops, and just like the Friday prior, the air became thick, a sudden anxiety washing over the pair at Bo's words, causing the room to feel tight. 

"And you didn't mention this earlier?" Rich interrupts, leaning up on his elbows. The DS that had been resting on his stomach falls off of it and onto the bed, his face twisted into an unsettled expression. 

Bo looks calm as he gazes down at Rich, though there's a shimmer of uneasiness spread across his face. "I told myself it was necessary to let you both heal emotionally. It wouldn't have helped to bombard you two with this news days ago, you need your mental strength. Too much stressful news at once and it'll send each of you spiralling. You'll find yourself much more willing to keep going than you had days ago if I had told you then. The bonding time was also crucial." 

His reasoning has Rich gripping the hospital blanket, but he doesn't disagree.

"Whether that was a good call for me to make, we shall see. I suspect it was." 

"How bad is it?" Michael asks, getting Bo to turn to him as Rich kept his gaze on the hospital blanket. 

"In what terms?"

"The S.Q.U.I.P's." He clarifies. "How many new S.Q.U.I.P's have been activated?" 

Bo stands up straighter, eyes blanking out. "From now to Monday," He begins, gaze coming back as soon as he recites, "289."

Every breath halts, with Rich and Michael immediately catching each other's gaze. He feels a cold chill run through his body, like he could throw up, and he just might.

"Jesus christ. ." Rich mumbles. "He's lost it, officially. Jeremy's lost it." 

"How is he even getting so many?" Michael asks, a little faint sound in the room.

"We're mass produced, there's more of us than you think." Bo answers simply, like that explains anything at all. "That's why this situation is even more dangerous. There's always a gamble when we're sold that someone will get a bad S.Q.U.I.P from how quick we're made, the manufacturers don't try to ensure each one of us is absolutely perfect. There's no telling how many bad ones have been distributed thus far. Some could completely destroy the host they're in after they're activated. Some might even kill the person if they attempt to shut it off. It's a game of Russian Roulette each time." The new information they're being given stuns them both into silence, with none of them saying a word for an uncomfortably long moment. 

"This is so fucking stupid." Rich mutters out, breaking that moment, one hand moving up to cover his face before going into his hair, gripping it. "I gave him the fucking thing. None of this would have happened if I hadn't given him the fucking S.Q.U.I.P. Why does popularity matter so much to high school students? To /Jeremy/? I don't even know why it mattered to /me/. It didn't help at all, with /anything/. This is so fucking stupid." 

His knuckles pop from how hard he's gripping his hair. "And there's no one who can help us." He clenches his jaw, going quiet. Michael can tell with how worked up Rich's breathing is that he wasn't handling Bo's words well. He scoots forward, resting a hand on Rich's shoulder. 

He folds in on himself at the gentle touch, showing just how unused to it he was, both hands now covering his face. Michael doesn't hesitate before letting Rich curl up against him, bringing a hand to lay on the nape of Rich's neck rests his head on his shoulder. 

This had happened before, two nights ago. Michael had finally gotten Rich to open up about just one of the nightmares he had had, and he didn't really get to finish before a certain part got Rich all choked up.

Michael moves one of his free hand down, resting over Rich's, like another silent comfort. He gently moves his thumb back and forth through the blonde hair at the base of his neck, trying to get Rich to relax into it. He does, but his breathes are still far too quick, and Michael can feel tears beginning to wet his neck.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to upset him." Bo speaks, voice a small hushed murmur in the room.

Michael looks up at Bo, shaking his head even as Rich appears to shake out a silent sob. "No, no, no, it's okay. It's not your fault. It's not yours either, Rich." He begins, trying to reassure both. "This is Jeremy and his S.Q.U.I.P, no one can take the blame from any of this but them. It's been their choices this whole time, we didn't make them do anything." 

Rich leans further into him, face now hidden in the space where his neck met his shoulder. This prompts Michael to continue. "It isn't your fault. You had a S.Q.U.I.P to, and it was hurting you. That's why it made you offer it to him, you couldn't have known. It's not your fault." 

Bo nods, trying to add to the reassurance in any little way he could. "He's right. It's not your fault."

Rich is silent, but his hand moves timidly, moving under Michael's so he could hold his hand, interlacing their fingers as he shuffles closer. He seems to crave the comfort, and Michael doesn't mind returning it.

He had always been very physically affectionate in his friendships, so he didn't mind the closeness.

Thinking about leaving Rich alone so obviously distraught and anxious for 2 whole days made his heart lurch painfully, but what other choice did he have? It was okay, though. They could call, right? That had to help some, even if it's only slightly. 

"Are you scared of me?" Bo asks, unprompted, as they leave the hospital later than night. It's dark out, with crickets chirping in the distance. 

Because Michael wouldn't be coming over at all during the weekend, he wanted to stay for as long as he could. 

"Scared of you?" He echos, looking over at him. "Why would I be scared of you?" 

"Because, I'm a S.Q.U.I.P just like Jeremy has. You know what they can do. Rich seems scared of me, even if that stems from past trauma with his S.Q.U.I.P."

Michael looks forward, thinking for a brief moment before he shakes his head. "I'm not scared of you. You don't want to hurt me or anyone else, I can see that. I trust you." He responds honestly. 

Bo meets his gaze, and he's silent as he thinks, then gives a slight smile, nodding. 

Michael returns the smile, but it falters as he thinks for a moment. "So, uh, 289, huh?" He says, a nervous edge to his voice. 

Bo's expression changes with his words, nodding. "Yes." 

"What can we do?" 

His S.Q.U.I.P gives a hum as he thinks, not wanting to give an answer that will disappoint him. "I won't know for sure unless I can see how the school is functioning. Without knowing exactly how Jeremy's S.Q.U.I.P effects the ones around it, it will be hard to come to a solid plan." 

Michael sucks in a deep breath, then releases it. He can't help the suffocating feeling coming over him, picking at a loose stich on one of his patches. 

"This almost doesn't feel real." He mumbles. "It's all so crazy." 

Bo gives a small 'hm' besides him. "To humans, this would all seem impossible, but I assure you, it is very, very real." 

The words make Michael's chest feel tight, closing his eyes for a moment. It was so easy to want to give into the panic, or keep going how he was; visiting Rich and spending the whole day just doing nothing but laughing. 

But that time was over, as Bo had said. They were given enough time, they couldn't afford to not focus on it any longer, even if it all made him feel like the very world was crumbling beneath his feet. 

"You need sleep." Bo speaks, throwing those thoughts to rest in the back of his head. 

Michael nods, not offering much after that. He does get in bed after he eats dinner once he gets home. He doesn't go to sleep right away, thought. He's lying on his back, staring up at the ceiling, for a good long while.

"It's doing you no good focusing on what you can't change right now." Bo is now sitting on the desk besides him, one leg pulled up to his chest. 

Michael turns his head to the side to look at him, and he knows he's right.

He lets out a breath. 

"I know." He murmurs simply. 

"You'd been sleeping so well this week, I suppose the information I gave today is what's making this night different?" Bo asks.

"No, it's the situation. You needed to tell us that, it's not your fault." He reassures from where he's looking up at him. "I'm just worried about it all, y'know?" 

Bo doesn't respond at first, letting a silence carry on. 

Michael doesn't quite remember if Bo /did/ say anything, because soon his mind was slipping away, and he was asleep. 

Like every night before it, there had been no missed calls that morning.

It left Michael with an anxious pit in his stomach as he was getting ready. 

"Relax, it's still pretty early. He probably is giving it a minute because he thinks you're still asleep, or maybe he is. It'll be okay." Bo had reassured, and it eased him, even if it was slight. 

He kept his phone by him, even eating breakfast he kept it unlocked, stealing glances at the screen whenever he could, with Patty making a comment about it. 

"You waitin' on something?"

Michael's leg bounced anxiously, looking over at her. "Oh! Uh. . .sorta. Rich is supposed to call me today. It's important." 

Patty lets out a small sigh. "You've been with him so much recently, and now you're even waiting for him to call on the weekends."

Taahira was taking an extra shift that day working at teleperformance, leaving Patty and Michael at home for the day. 

It was usually like that during the week after Michael got home from school, and if Patty was working the late shift at the residential maintenance, he would be left alone in the house until around 7 p.m. Patty had opted for more morning hours, though, which meant Michael had more company after school. 

Which also meant he couldn't stay with Rich during after school hours without lying to her about where he was.

Michael frowns a little, even though he knows she's right. "I know." He says softly. "I promise it won't be like this when he gets here Monday. I'm just really worried about him when we're apart." He answers honestly.

He had mention to them yesterday night after he had gotten home from the hospital that Rich would be there by Monday, and even if Patty said she wanted to meet Rich first, Michael was pretty confident he'd be moving in that night. 

"His home life is that bad?" She asks curiously, taking a sip from her coffee. 

Michael bites the inside of his mouth, then nods. It was a guess, but from the little bits and pieces he had been told, and the fact they kicked him out of their house in his time of need, he'd say that was a given.

"Real bad." 

She gives a small 'hm', nodding. "Well, I'm looking forward to meeting him on Monday." 

He gives a small smile at that. "Uh, would it be possible to skip school on Monday? Y'know, let him get acquainted?" He asks timidly. 

Patty raises an eyebrow, giving a thinking hum as she stretches."I'll make you a deal, okay? I'd say its a safe bet he'll be moving in Monday after we meet him, so I'll let you skip-"

Michael gives an excited 'yes!' in triumph, throwing a fist in the air.

"But-" 

He lowers the fist.

"If he causes any trouble, or we don't like him, he's out as soon as Wednesday, got it?"

He blinks, then nods. "Got it." He confirms. "But," he adds in a sing-song voice, "I promise you'll like him. He's no trouble maker at all." 

She gives a small grin, ruffling his hair as she walks past him. "I look forward to meeting him." 

Bo appears by his side once she's left the kitchen, hopping up to sit on the counter. "Looks like everything is working out accordingly." He says, getting Michael's attention.

"A-"

"In your head, Mell." 

Michael laughs softly. 

A little. Rich still hasn't called yet, but I'm less stressed out now that I know he can move in Monday for sure. 

Bo smiles. "Told you." 

Yeah, you did. 

Rich doesn't end up calling at all on neither Saturday or Sunday, which just brings back all the unnecessary stress and anxiety. 

Thoughts that shouldn't be in Michael's head start to almost overwhelm him. 

"Rich is okay, trust me." Bo says on Sunday, the day before he'd pick Rich up from the hospital. 

Michael picked up the pillow he'd covered his face with moments prior. "How do you know that for sure?" 

"Well, I know he's still alive, which means he's okay." He answers, leaning back against the wall. 

He's sitting on the desk, again. Michael had to moved the lamp off to one side so Bo could lean against the wall like how he was doing now without it going through him. 

Bo said he couldn't even feel it, but it still weirded Michael out. 

"Ugggghhhhhh-" Michael shoved the pillow back down over his face, muffling his long, anxious 'ugh'. 

By whatever miracle, he's able to fall asleep that night before 1 a.m. 

Michael's not even tired when Patty wakes him up that morning. 

"Ay, me and your mom are going off to work. Don't tear up the house when you bring Rich over, kay? We'll be back this afternoon to meet him."

He pushes himself up with a yawn, looking at Patty and Taahira standing by his bed, each dressed for work. 

He smiles, even though it takes a minute for his sleep-ridden brain to process what their saying. "Okay." 

They both kiss his forehead, giving him a loving goodbye before they leave his room. 

Michael takes a moment, letting out a sigh. It's been two days since he's seen Rich, and he's beyond worried. He misses him, and what surprises him about it is just how /much/ he misses him. 

He doesn't get much time to focus on that, because then Bo appears in front of him. 

"Today's the day, Michael. Go get ready, it's 8:45."

Michael gives a sleepily smile, yawning as he stands up. 

He could barely contain the excitement at being able to not only see Rich again, but finally getting him out of that hospital.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you guys enjoyed! Next chapter coming soon!
> 
> Any comments or criticism are greatly appreciated! 
> 
> I'm gonna be honest,,,, I'm not too confident in this chapter, but I promise the next will be better! ^^
> 
> Thank you for reading!
> 
> Until next time!


	5. Suffer With Me [Us]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Michael and Rich enter school.
> 
> Jeremy isn't happy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heyoo!
> 
> Chapter five, finally!
> 
> Sorry for the longer wait,, 
> 
> Anywhoo, things are about to get weird and angsty, enjoy!!

Each step was nervous, a giddy excitement in Michael despite everything that was going on. 

He was looking forward to seeing Rich, of course he was. He would finally be out of the hospital, and he would be moving in. 

He doesn’t know what to expect as he approaches the door to the hospital. He had been excited during the walk there, but the closer he had gotten to the hospital, the more the anxiety started to mount.

Bo glances at him. "What are you so worried about?" 

"I haven't seen him in two whole days. I know that doesn't /seem/ like a lot, it’s just. . .I don't know." Michael trailed off once he realizes that he didn’t know why himself. 

Michael walks through the automatic doors, looking over at the supercomputer next to him for directions. 

/Remember, in your head./

Bo reminds before he says anything. 

Right. Uh. What do I do? 

/You should go up to the desk and ask for him. I doubt he'd be discharged so early. Though, it /is/ almost 10 a.m./

Michael looks towards the reception desk, a twinge of dread setting in upon realizing this wasn't the same woman as before. 

He'd never been good at talking to new people. Around people he knew, even if they only had brief conversations leading up to that point, he could pop off like a firecracker. Complete strangers, however, were another situation entirely. 

/Michael, it's okay./ 

He tries to keep that in mind, shuffling up to the reception desk. The woman doesn't look up, but greets him.

"What can I do for you?" She has a thick Brooklyn accent, finally looking away from the computer as Michael gets his voice.

"Oh, um, I'm looking to see patient Rich Goranski." 

"Ah." Is all she says, going back to the screen. After a few moments of typing and some scrolling, she looks back at him.

"It seems like he's been discharged earlier this morning at around 6 a.m." She turns to him, tilting her head to the side slightly. "Were you informed about that?"

Michael feels his heart sink. Rich was discharged, yet hadn't called him.

Shit. 

He sputtered for a response, then shook his head. "Uh, no." 

She gives him a smile, one that seems etched with annoyance. 

"Okay, well, there's not much I can do for you then. I'm sorry. You could use the phone if you'd like?" She offers. 

Michael is still for a moment, barely breathing. He's about to accept, but then he remembers he doesn't even have a number to call. He only gave Rich his number, he hadn’t gotten his.

He shakes his head. "Uh, no, it's okay." His voice is brittle, the racing thoughts already taking over before he could rationalize it all and calm himself down.

"Alrighty then, good luck." She turns back to the computer, and Michael turns his back to her in return.

He's heading for the door, legs stiff and his heart practically sinking into the floor, just as he hears something being shouted through the waiting room at him.

"Yo, headphones!" 

Michael whips around, eyes landing on a short, blonde figure. 

Their eyes meet, and he's met with a toothy grin. 

"Weren't thinking about leaving without me, were you?" 

Michael feels the thoughts finally release him, a burst of energy taking its place. 

Rich looks nervous, like maybe he thought, even for a split second, Michael didn't want to see him.  
That thought was most likely immediately debunked when Michael ran at him at full speed.

"Dude!" He closes the distance as he pulled Rich into a tight hug, picking him up off the ground slightly.  
He hears Rich give a surprised 'oh', but quickly wraps his arms around him as well. 

"I was so worried, they said you'd been discharged and I thought you left and you didn't call so I thought, like-" 

"Michael." Bo interjects, cutting off what was about to be a nervous ramble of words. Rich gives a small look of discomfort at the supercomputer, but doesn't say anything at all. 

Michael gave him an embarrassed smile, but laughed, setting Rich down, stepping back a little. "Yeah, uh, to sum that all up, I was mainly worried, but, dude I've missed you!" 

Rich laughs, a beautiful sound to Michael's ears, looking up at him. "Yeah, I've missed having someone to talk to. I, uh, would've called but I couldn't find a phone." He explains. 

Michael's eyebrows draw together a bit in confusion, but smiles, shaking his head. "Nah, it's cool. Don't sweat it, man." He thought about the fact the woman at the front desk had offered to let him use the phone, but brushed it off. Maybe Rich was just as nervous about talking to strangers as Michael was. 

/Or he didn't want to bother you. He seems like the type./

Michael doesn't get the time to comment on Bo's pessimistic addition to his own thoughts, as Rich is speaking again.

"I did find my own phone, but I didn't have a charger for it." Rich says, pulling off a backpack he'd had slung over his shoulder. 

Michael recognizes it as the same one Rich had used for school, watching him unzip the smallest pocket and pull out a phone with a shattered screen. Not to the point of it being completely unusable, though. 

"Where'd you find it?" He asks.

"Well, my parents had dropped off a backpack full of my stuff when they'd visited that one time. I never bothered to look in the bag, eventually I had forgotten about it until I was leaving. It's my old phone, but it seemed to have gotten busted up during the whole- Halloween fire thing," he seems to rush past that last part, putting the phone into his bag again, "and everything else is just old clothes, pretty much." 

He looks at Rich, who was wearing a grey jacket Michael hadn't seen him in before, with his token green cargo pants he recognized all too well. 

"Well, I think I could find a charger for it back at my place, and you can borrow some of my clothes if you want? I have a bunch of hoodies and stuff I don't wear." 

The offer seems to catch Rich off guard, smiling nervously at him. "Oh, it's okay. You don't have to. You're already doing so much for me, I couldn't do that to you. I have enough clothes in the backpack."

Michael waves his hand dismissively as they headed for the hospital's exit. "Pffftt, don't sweat it, dude. It's really no problem at all!" 

Rich’s eyebrows draw together, a guilty look in his eyes, like he thought he didn’t deserve it, but he does smile.

Rich seemed to have the same reaction to every show of affection or even the slightest bit of kindness, like he thought he was the absolute scum of the earth who didn’t deserve not even one good thing, and it was beginning to give Michael the suspicion he must not have been treated kindly that often.

Bo had retreated into Michael's head as they began walking, giving them a chance to talk comfortably without looming over their shoulders the whole time.

Michael doesn't stop at 7/11 on the walk home, instead taking Rich right back to the house. He was probably tired, and Michael was eager to get him settled in.

"It's a little small." He had said as they walked through the front door, leading Rich up the stairs. Although being two stories, it wasn't very big, which was fine considering they were a very small family. The only spare room they had was used as storage, a collection of miscellaneous items his moms couldn't keep in their room. 

"My parents have a room downstairs and mine's up here. We don't have a guest room, so you can stay in my room." Michael can't see Rich's expression as he speaks, pushing open the door to his room. 

He, of course, had tidied up before he left that morning, but there wasn't much to clean as he'd always kept his room pretty organized. 

He turns to Rich as he sits down on his bed, seeing his shoulders all scrunched up, like he was trying to take up as little space as possible. 

"Do I sleep on the couch?" He asks, voice timid as he does. 

Michael lets his body fall back against the mattress. "You can sleep here!"

"Michael, that's a twin sized mattress." 

Michael gives an overdramatic gasp, pushing himself up to his elbows. "Excuse /you/, this is a full. I upgraded from a twin in middle school." 

Rich gives a playful roll of his eyes as an amused grin spreads across his lips, slipping the backpack off his shoulders and setting it near the bed.  
Hesitantly, as if he feels like he's unwanted, he sits down on the bed, before flopping down to lie on his stomach.

"God, it feels so nice to be on a bed that isn't in a hospital." He mumbles, cheek pressed against the bed. 

Michael smiles, rolling over on his side so he was facing Rich. 

Rich had his eyes closed, seeming to practically melt into the mattress. He had a different look on his face than the one he had had at the hospital, like a whole new sense of peace came over him. 

"You falling asleep?" 

Rich opens his eyes, looking at Michael. "Can I? I know, like, all I did at the hospital was sleep but," he yawns, snuggling into the blanket below him as his eyes close again, "that was more because I was bored, so it wasn't really /sleeping/." 

A toothy grin spreads across Michael’s face, sitting up. "Of course you can, move up a little so you're not halfway off the bed." He scoots back, then pats the spot next to him.

Rich opens his eyes again, shuffling up before lying in the space next to Michael.  
The bed wasn't all that small, fitting the both of them comfortably. Rich didn't seem to mind the closeness, tucking his arms under the pillow and burying his face in it, stretching out comfortably. 

With that, he seemed to let the comfort take over, not saying anything as he sank into the mattress below. 

Michael leans over to reach for his laptop resting on the nightstand by his bed, pulling it into his lap. 

Bo manifests besides him as he does, sitting back on the nightstand now that Michael's laptop wasn't there. He leaned over to look at the screen. 

"So, you and Rich are planning on going to school tomorrow, correct?" He asks.

Michael looks over at Rich. He's out cold. 

He looks back over at Bo. "Yeah." He says, nodding. 

"Hm, I see. What's the plan?" 

"Plan? Uhh, we hadn't really thought of one. I guess just see what's happening there." Michael turned back to the screen, bringing up Netflix. He unplugs his headphones from his phone and plugs them into his laptop. 

"I'm sorry to interrupt, but while I'm here can you search for your high school? Middleborough? Just to see what's the latest input. Maybe it'll give us more of a grasp on what to expect." Bo requests. "I could search for it myself, but I sense it’d be more efficient with you here, as well.'

Michael glances at him, but nods, pushing his glasses up with the back of his wrist before entering 'Middleborough' into the search bar.  
Articles appear on the very top, with the latest dated on that Friday. 

"That one. That one was written after Jeremy began S.Q.U.I.P.'ing all the students." Bo points at that article, the pink hue given off by his body reflecting off Michael's laptop screen. 

Michael does as he was told, skimming through it.

He began reading from it out loud, squinting at the screen. "It says here:  
Middleborough has seen remarkable academic improvements since the beginning of this week, nearly all students have seen a 60% increase in grade scores. . .yada yada yada, what's that mean?" Michael asks, looking at Bo. 

"An unbelievable number of students seemed to improve their grades all at once, to an impossible degree. It would be unlikely for this much improvement to be logically possible from so many students in such a short amount of time." He explains, narrowing his eyes. "Notice how this happened /after/ Jeremy S.Q.U.I.P'ed the students. And what's alarming is that this news article didn't report it as strange or note anything unusual."

Michael's mind blanked. "You lost me."

"Despite such a high S.Q.U.I.P percentage, no one’s noticed anything strange. This means, to everyone else, the school appears normal despite what's going on." 

Michael lets out an 'oh' noise. 

"And, this means that most of the now 376 active S.Q.U.I.P's are probably residing in Middleborough. Jeremy has possibly S.Q.U.I.P nearly half the school by now." 

He feels a sickening chill run up his spine, exiting out of the tab. "Which means this will be a lot harder than I thought. I don't have enough Mountain Dew Red to even shut off that many S.Q.U.I.P's. I don't even have any for Jeremy. I don't have any at all. And I doubt they'll bring it back by tomorrow." He looks over at Bo. "What the fuck are we gonna do?"

Bo lets out a hum in thinking. "We can't solve this tomorrow. It was never something I thought we'd be able to do. Right now, we just need to see the damage Jeremy has done. That's it for the time being.”

Michael went quiet, stomach almost aching with dread. He could still call back to the last time him and Jeremy played video games together, laughing without a care in the world. 

Now here they were. . .

He didn't even think it would ever amount to Jeremy ditching him, much less beginning to drug the rest of the school with the supercomputer, too. Now Michael had to fix it, and he could bet he'd still be alone after it all. 

"You'll make it out just fine, Michael. You're not alone. Rich is here now. Even if Jeremy was your friend for that long, maybe he wasn't ever the one for you. Maybe Rich is the right one."

Michael jolts a little in surprise, looking over at the supercomputer. It takes a moment for it to click that he /was/ in his head. He could basically hear his thoughts. 

"Saying he "wasn't the one for me" makes it sound like we were a thing, and that also makes it sound like me and Rich are a thing." Michael points out, scrolling through Netflix’s catalog of movies and shows.

"By "a thing" you mean dating, I'm not talking about dating. In this situation, I don't exactly mean romantically as much as I do friendship wise. What I mean to say is, Rich might suit you better than Jeremy had." 

Michael looks over at Rich, who looks incredibly peaceful, out like a light.

He doesn't say anything in response, turning back to the computer. "I guess we'll come up with a plan when Rich wakes up." He murmurs.  
Bo nods, going silent as Michael pulls the headset over his ears. He doesn't retreat back into his head, just merely leans in and watches what Michael had chosen. 

Silence falls over the entire room besides the faint sound of the movie’s opening coming from the headset. 

Rich ends up waking up before his movie is over, stretching. He presses his cheek against Michael's thigh as he rolls over, huffing.  
Michael looks down at the sudden movement, smiling as he pulls down the headset to rest around his shoulders. "Good morning." He teases as he brings one hand down, ruffling his hair. 

Rich huffs again, curling against Michael. " 'm going back to sleep, fuck you." He mumbles groggily, getting a laugh from Michael.

He continues gently playing with his hair, leaning back against the wall. Rich keeps his eyes closed, until he opens them once more moments later.

"Are you watching the fucking Muppets movie?" He lisps.

"Uhhhhh," Michael unplugs the headphones, causing the song currently playing to fill the room. "Yeah, wanna watch it too?" He offers, taking his headphones off to set them behind Bo on the nightstand.

Rich lets out a 'mmgh', but sits up, sleepily pressing his cheek into Michael's shoulder, looking at the screen. 

"Dude, I'm not even gonna lie, I'm so fucking hungry it's hard to concentrate." Rich mumbles after a moment, which draws a laugh from Michael. 

"Let's go get something to eat then. I can make us some pizza rolls?" He offers. 

He feels a nod against his arm. 

Michael slides the laptop off his lap, closing it and moving it to set it down on the nightstand. As he does, Bo disappears, only to then appear next to the nightstand, now standing.

Michael stands, and Rich gets up with him, rubbing at his eyes with a yawn. 

He follows Michael downstairs, leaning against the counter as he sets some pizza rolls in the toaster oven. 

Bo sits on top of the counter, crossing his arms as he leans back against the cabinets. 

"You know, I was kinda confused, why's your S.Q.U.I.P pink?" Rich asks, looking at Bo, who's expression remains neutral.

"Oh! Uh, I don't know really, I'm guessing they're not supposed to be pink then?" Michael turns back to Rich, setting the plate of cooked pizza rolls between them. 

"Well, I don't know I’ve never been able to see someone's S.Q.U.I.P before. Mine was green, I think Jeremy mentioned his was blue." 

Bo crosses his arms across his chest. "Every S.Q.U.I.P has a designated colored hue to it. I can't tell you exactly what that means, as I don't really know myself, but I'm going to guess it's either for distinction between S.Q.U.I.P's or is linked to how the S.Q.U.I.P itself works, like a color system that correlates to the abilities of each S.Q.U.I.P. Another theory could be that it's linked to the host themselves, maybe their favorite color or personality type." 

Rich nods, saying a small 'oh' under his breath, then a toothy grin spreads across his face. "If that last one is true, it makes sense Michael's is pink." He comments as he pops a pizza roll into his mouth.

Michael sputters. "What the fuck is that supposed to mean?" 

Rich snickers, shrugging. "I dunno, jus' seems like pink would represent your personality type." 

"Man, fuck you. I don't even know what a personality type is, not to mention my own." He says as he takes a bite of a pizza roll, but there's a smile spread across his face 

"That's easy, you'd be classified as ISFP or INFJ." 

They both pause, looking at Bo like he'd suddenly spoken in a different language.

"Huh?" 

Bo sighs. "You're personality would be classified between ISFP or INFJ in the system. We're programmed to use the MBTI tests as our reference, we're set to adapt to each of the sixteen different types." 

Rich blinks. "What? Wait, but isn't that whole personality test thing false? Like, everyone's different, there's no way to separate people into only, like, sixteen different categories that sums up their whole personality."

Michael shares a glance with Rich, then back at Bo. "Yeah, I think my English teacher talked about those tests once. She told us it was a waste of time to focus on that kinda stuff."

"Well, yes and no, to both of you. I do agree, though, as I don't like that particular system either. Each person, no matter what, are all going to be different. Each opinion and choice of action differs from person to person, but judging it by a vague system helps a S.Q.U.I.P adjust to the basic mental standing of their host." 

Michael and Rich glance at one another.

Bo sighs.

"It's not /really/ important. We don't use that information much, it literally just might explain the difference in color between each S.Q.U.I.P. I'm assuming."

There's a long pause, neither Rich or Michael saying a word.

"Don't focus on that too much. That information won't help you." 

Rich then cracks a grin, taking another pizza roll. "Yeah, all I need to know is Michael has a pink S.Q.U.I.P Which is /way/ too in character, might I add."

Michael huffs, but can't contain the amused smile on his face, rolling his eyes. "Man, fuck you." He picks up the plate of pizza rolls, heading for the stairs. 

"Hey! My sustenance!" 

"Follow me upstairs! I'm going back to my room." Michael called, hearing the rush of Rich's footsteps behind him. 

Bo is back in the room by the time they get there, leaning against the wall next to the nightstand.

Michael sets the plate in his lap, opening his laptop again as Rich flops back down besides him, stealing another pizza roll. 

"We still watching the Muppet Movie?" 

"Dude, chew with your mouth close," Michael scolds playfully, "and yeah, if you want. We can watch something else if you want to, though." 

Rich shrugs. "I'm cool with this. I've never seen it anyway."

There's an over dramatic gasp from Michael. "You've never seen the Muppet movie?" 

He snickers, looking up at Michael. He's laying on his back, propped up on one of Michael's many pillows, one arm draped across his stomach while the other reaches over to grab a pizza roll from the plate in his lap. "No? Should I have?" 

Michael scoots closer, laying back on the same pillow Rich was currently on. He's close enough that Rich rests his head on his shoulder, moving the plate to rest on his stomach as Michael rests the laptop in his, hitting play. 

"It's literally only the best movie ever made. Real shit, this movie is so funny, man." 

Rich gives a snort, and Michael can't see the red tint on his face, or the way his heart sped up and he lost the ability to make his usual quips. "Is it?" 

"Yeah! I'll replay it from the beginning. I got up to the song 'Man or Muppet' so you missed a lot." He rewinds the movie, and as it plays, they go back into a comfortable silence, curled up next to one another. 

They don't notice Bo's slight, gentle smile as he goes back into Michael's head. They also don't notice the hours ticking by, burning through them as Michael puts on another movie for the both of them to watch, snacking on another plate of pizza rolls. 

Michael snaps back into the world around him when he hears the familiar sound of a car door slamming, then the front door opening. 

He sits up, looking at the small clock on his laptop. "Ah, it's 5:30. I should've been paying attention. My mom's home." 

Rich leans up, eyes stretching wide. "What?" 

Michael notices the sudden hit of anxiety, shaking his head quickly. "No, no, no, it's alright, man! Patty's super nice, and so's Taahira! It'll be fine." 

Rich seems doubtful, holding on tightly to the blanket. However, he nods, taking a deep breath. "Should I go meet her now?" 

Michael thinks for a moment before he answers, looking back outside the window. He opens his mouth to respond, only to close it as he notices Taahira's car pulling into the driveway next. 

"Bad news, my other mom just pulled in." By the time he finished his sentence, a car door closing could be heard, much gentler than the one before it.

"Dude, I'm not gonna lie to you, I'm stressing." Rich hisses under his breath, shuffling to the edge of the bed. 

Michael tries to offer a comforting smile, shaking his head. "You got this, it's fine. They’re super excited to meet you, man, seriously." He says as he stands.

Rich bites the corner of his cheek, shaking his head. "What about-" He gestures to his face. "All this?" 

Michael looks at him for a moment, knowing exactly what he means. It was easy to look past it the more and more they hung out, but he can't deny meeting him for the first time might be the cause of surprise. The grey jacket he has on covers most of it, but it’s unable to hide the twisting scars on his hands, or much of his shoulders. The whole right side of his shoulder was severely burned, all the way up to his face. It wound up his neck like shattered glass, scarring from his ear to the bridge of his nose in angry, red scars, crackling like lightening.

"Rich," he begins softly, "they don't care about that. Those scars don't make you any less of a person to them. I promise you; they'll barely even really see them." He tries to reassure, his hand going over Rich's in a comforting manner. 

There's a trace of doubt in his eyes, but as Michael gently grabs his hands to interlace their fingers, pulling him up to stand beside him, that doubt seems to ease. 

Michael leads him down the stairs, seeing his moms in the kitchen, already having set their bags down on the counter, now engaging in small talk.  
Taahira gently kisses Patty's cheek, brushing some of her red hair out of the way as she does. Her eyes look tired and drained, but as she notices Michael enter, they light up. 

Rich is following behind him, remaining completely silent as he reveals himself from behind Michael. 

Before now, Michael knows, Rich would've been great at introducing himself to his parents, but he didn't have the S.Q.U.I.P now. Every ounce of learned confidence was completely stripped from him. 

As Michael had guessed, they were fairly good at keeping their surprise hidden. There's a mere flicker in Patty's eyes, and a small perk up from Taahira, but other than that, they both quickly mask it. 

Michael knows it's because of the unexpected condition that Rich is in. Sure, Michael had mentioned burns, but they probably hadn't expected anything like this. 

"Rich, is it? Michael has told us so much about you." Patty holds her hand out, offering a friendly smile.

Rich hesitates nervously, then sticks his hand out to shake hers politely. Taahira does the same, a smile just like Patty's on her face.

"So, you're moving into our house, huh?" Patty says, crossing her arms. It doesn't sound angry or rough. Instead, her tone comes out as soft as silk.

"Uh, yes. I'm sorry to bother you both, but I'm very grateful you're letting me stay. My parents. .uh-" Rich trails off a little, rubbing at his neck. "Don’t want me at the house after I was, um, very irresponsible at a party." 

It was still so odd seeing such a lack of confidence on someone Michael had known to be nothing but walking confidence. 

"But I learned my lesson! I won't ever do anything like that again, I promise." He adds. 

"I believe you." 

Michael and Rich exchange glances, looking back at Patty. 

She gives an amused smile, cocking an eyebrow. "What? You don't think me and Taahira had our fair share of mischief that we got into? You two are young, and to be honest I'm surprised Michael hadn't gotten himself entangled in something sooner." 

Rich seems to relax a little, unclenching his hands that he had balled into anxious fists. 

"Michael didn't tell me all of what happened, but I did expect something like this. Regardless of what you did, I don't agree with your parents kicking you out. How old are you, exactly?" 

"Uh, I just turned eighteen back in October." 

She makes an 'ah' sound, nodding. "Even if your eighteen, that makes it legal, but not right. You're still a child in my eyes, you never really grow out of that until you're at least twenty-five. You need your parents throughout that time." 

Michael sees Rich look down, wiping at his face, obviously trying to be as inconspicuous as possible that he was wiping away tears.

Patty looks surprised, expression morphing into a worried one. 

Taahira had that same look, eyebrows pulled together. 

From the moment Michael gave them the little glimpse of Rich's home life that he'd been given, he knew their hearts ached for him. Both have been through hardships of their own that always made them try so hard to relieve Michael of all the same pain they had gone through from dead-beat parents.  
Patty said it taught her how to be a better parent, as both her parents never engaged with her much as a child. They would turn her away and scream at her for every little mistake, and she'd gone her whole life without knowing praise and a loving home. It always made her work harder, striving for more and never seeming to be satisfied when more came. It was what led her to meeting Taahira, who at the time was dealing with taking care of a six-month-old Michael Mell on her own, jobless and all too close to being evicted from her apartment. 

Taahira's home life was different from Patty's, but still lacked a crucial parental figure. Her mother always tried her best, having to work two jobs which left her drained and exhausted, but she had always tried her best. Her father, however, didn't show that kind of love or dedication. He made the house a living nightmare every chance he got, and fights between her parents commonly broke out that morphed into four a.m. screaming matches. Eventually, he moved out when Taahira was fourteen, leaving with no care or worry for Taahira or her mother and hadn't spoken to either since, leaving her and her mother to pick up the pieces of a broken home.

Both of their painful upbringings helped mold them into parents who, even if they had their flaws, raised Michael with all the love and care he could ever want. 

The kind they never had, and the kind Rich never had, either.

"And you can stay for as long as you need to." Taahira murmurs.

Rich seems overwhelmed, turning away for a moment as his shoulders hitch a little from the effort to hold back anymore tears. 

Michael gave him a sympathetic look, hand resting on his shoulder. Rich's reaction just made it even more apparent that he wasn't used to any of it.

"Thank you." He eventually gets out, relaxing a little into Michael's hand. 

"Well, I'm going to get dinner started, are you boys hungry?" Taahira pipes up, with both looking over.

Michael glances at Rich, who nods. "Yes, please." Michael says as he looks back at his mom, smiling.

By the time they go back into Michael's room, the sun had gone down hours ago, leaving the room dark apart from the streetlights that are shining through the window.

Michael leaves the blinds open, taking off his hoodie and setting it aside as he pulls on a baggy shirt to sleep in. 

Rich sits on the edge of the bed before shuffling back to lay down. 

"You're gonna sleep in a hoodie? Isn't that uncomfortable?" Michael asks. 

"Eh," Rich shifts, "everything else I have in my bag is muscle shirts, and I don't think I'll be wearing those anymore." There's a faint, pained look on Rich's face, one that makes Michael's heart ache. 

He's silent for a moment, before he seems to light up with an idea. "You can wear one of my shirts, if you want? I have these long-sleeved shirts that are pretty thin, so they're comfortable to sleep in." He offers, turning to get one from his wardrobe. 

"Oh! Uh-" Rich doesn't really get to decline, because then Michael is handing him one.

"Would you wanna wear this one?" 

Michael's heart flips a certain way as Rich takes it, nodding.

"Uh. ." He began, looking from the shirt to Michael, who tilted his head a little. 

“Yeah?” 

"Could you, uh, turn around?" 

Michael processes what he said for a moment before he truly understood what he meant. "Oh! Yeah, of course." 

He hears the sound of a zipper being pulled down, then rustling. 

"Okay, you can turn around now."

As he turns around, he's met with the sight of Rich Goranski, dressed in his very oversized shirt. It stops at his thighs, completely covering his hands with how long the sleeves were. 

Michael tries his best not to gush at him, instead laying down in the empty space next to Rich. 

Rich lies down, his back pressed against the wall for a moment as Michael gets situated, before scooting a little closer. 

There's a slight tension, a question that both are purposely seeming to avoid, even though they couldn't. 

Bo reminds them of that.

"Tomorrow, you guys will be going into school." He speaks, appearing behind Michael, who has his back turned towards him. 

He rolls over onto his back, turning his head to look at the supercomputer. He knows Bo was saying that as more of a reminder than a question, but he nods anyway.

"We're going."

Bo gives a curt nod. "You two should get some sleep, then." 

He doesn't say much more before he fades out, leaving Michael and Rich alone again.

Rich had stayed silent, still doing so as Michael turns to face him. They meet each other's eyes, and he cracks a slight smile.

"So, tomorrow we face that beast. You ready?"

Rich returns the soft smile, even with how nervous his eyes look. "Honestly? Not at all." He says, then sighs a little. "But I know it'll be okay. At least I won't be alone." 

Michael feels a warmth flutter through his chest at that, closing his eyes. "We'll get through it together. It's just some high school students with some super technology, how hard could it be?" 

Rich smiles a little wider, gazing freely at Michael as his eyes were closed.

Michael doesn't see the longing gaze, or how Rich seemed to be struggling to get up the confidence to speak. 

He doesn't notice how Rich grips the pillow once he realizes the silence has been drawn out too long, thinking he couldn't possibly say what he wanted to now. 

He only feels Rich turn over to face the wall, but he's already dozing off. 

Morning comes way too quickly, making Michael feel like the world is closing in on him despite just waking up. It all felt more real when the moment was mere hours away. 

It was the sudden, crushing feeling of Michael's whole world beginning to collapse. It was easier to pretend it wasn't happening when he didn't have to face it head on, and now he did. 

Bo is beside him, being probably what had woken him on time. "Wake up Rich and get ready. If you're out the door by 7:15 you should make it to school at around 7:45, leaving you around fifteen minutes to observe what's going on with your peers without having to go to class as soon as you get there.”

Michael looks at Bo, who has a stern expression, just the faint ghost of a comforting smile tugging at his lips, leaving him to only crave such a gentle look that would ease the mounting fear. 

But it seemed the sternness helped push Michael along, giving him even a little strength not to crumble underneath the weight of the whole situation.  
He turned over to Rich, who was nearly curled up against his side. They'd gravitated closer to one another in their sleep, leaving Rich curled close to him. His blonde hair was ruffled and messy, a wisp of a red streak under it all. 

Looking down at him like this, asleep and peaceful, allowed Michael to get a more longing look. 

His hair is definitely longer than when he had the S.Q.U.I.P, he observes, with the roots of his hair colored a brown chestnut color as they slowly grew in, revealing his true hair color. 

He wondered what Rich would look like with his original hair color, not that the blond didn't suit him just fine. 

Michael gently ran his fingers through Rich's hair, a twinge of guilt settling in him at having to wake him in such a peaceful state to throw him headfirst into an awful, terrifying mess. 

Rich responds almost immediately, lifting his head sleepily. "Hmm?" He hummed out, like when a sleeping cat is startled. 

Michael smiled, his anxiety easing ever so slightly. "We got school." 

Rich doesn't seem to be hit with the rush of anxiety that Michael had felt the moment he woke, instead leaning into Michael's hand.  
He continued playing with his hair for a brief moment, before Rich leaned up, stretching with a yawn. 

They end up not making it out the door until 7:20, which confirms for Michael being late seems to be a pet peeve of Bo's. 

The tension and anxiety shared between the pair continued to grow, leaving them antsy. 

Bo is right beside them, walking silently with his eyes pointed right towards the direction of the school.

Michael's messenger's bag carries nothing more than a spare journal full of doodles and some pencils. He'd left all his schoolwork in that bag that had been ditched at school, though he doubted he needed it anyway.

Rich was the same, with the backpack slung over his shoulder literally carrying nothing more than a spare notepad Michael managed to dig up from around his room.

Bo had suggested they try to look as normal as possible, because some teachers might not be S.Q.U.I.P'ed yet, and even if they were, classes would most likely continue as usual.

"This is awful, I hate this." Rich mumbled as they approached the doors to the school. 

Outside there had been kids simply chatting amongst themselves, in their little groups and cliques, which was normal for high school students.

What they didn't notice was the abnormal way their heads snapped to stare at them the moment their backs were turned.

"Nothing seems to be wrong." Rich looks to Michael, who nods.

"Maybe we just can't tell? If so many people were S.Q.U.I.P'ed, they'd be really good at blending in, right? No one knew you or Jeremy were S.Q.U.I.P'ed." He points out, only for Bo to cut in. 

"I can tell you who's S.Q.U.I.P'ed," he offers, beginning to do so without waiting on a response, "everyone we passed on the way inside was S.Q.U.I.P’ed." He looks over at the front office. "Everyone in that office is S.Q.U.I.P'ed, everyone we passed while you two were walking in have been S.Q.U.I.P'ed." 

Michael feels his blood run cold, halting. Rich stops with him, despite the bell ringing to signal the start of first period.

As students passed by them, Bo listed off:

"He's S.Q.U.I.P'ed."

"She's S.Q.U.I.P'ed."

"She's S.Q.U.I.P'ed."

"He's S.Q.U.I.P'ed."

"They're S.Q.U.I.P'ed."

"S.Q.U.I.P'ed."

"S.Q.U.I.P'ed."

"S.Q.U.I.P'ed. . ."

Michael looked over at Rich, who's eyes were stretched wide in horror, looking at the students passing by.

"Okay, okay, okay, we get it! Just. . .tell us when someone isn't S.Q.U.I.P'ed." 

Bo takes his gaze off the crowd, moving it to Michael. "Okay, but that might take a while."

"This is fucking awful." Rich hisses, gripping his backpack strap tightly. He looks unnervingly pale, not even looking over at Michael yet.

Michael wants to offer something, anything, to make him feel better, but in that moment, he sees something that catches his attention. 

Jeremy is walking past them, two students Michael didn't even know on one side of him and Christine on the other. Michael's breath stalled, going stock still, as his eyes track him.

But Jeremy doesn't even so much as look over. He doesn't notice them, just continues talking to Christine, who's S.Q.U.I.P'ed.

There's something uneasy that is building much more rapidly inside of Michael, making his chest tighten and his breaths a little wheezy. 

"I-I. .I don't. . .I don't think I can-" Michael begins, shaking his head. It was becoming hard to focus, his head spinning so much it distracted him from the bustling energy around him while making it all too loud at the same time.

Nausea made his blood run cold as his palms felt sweaty, burning up while feeling ice cold all the same.

"We should go back-" Rich begins, only for a piercing shout to cut that thought off.

"Boys! Get a move on or you'll be late!" 

Michael and Rich both jumped, looking over at the woman who'd snapped at them. 

It was one of the assistant principals, and her arms were crossed, eyes narrowed at the two. "Go, the bell's already rung."

"She's S.Q.U.I.P'ed." 

Rich turns his back towards her, walking away in the opposite direction.

Michael stalls for a moment, with the woman giving him a curt nod as her eyes move back to Rich, before turning to follow.

"This was an awful fucking idea. This is like throwing yourself into a den of hungry lions. We're fucked." Rich mutters as Michael walks up next to him.

"You have this period with Jeremy, don't you? Mr. Gretch's class?" 

Rich looks over, nodding. "Him, Chrissy, Jenna, Chloe, and Brooke." 

Michael's eyebrows draw together, looking forward. "We're gonna be separated until lunch. I don't think we have any classes together but algebra and biology." 

"Which isn't until after lunch." Rich adds.

They probably should've thought this through more thoroughly. Michael had a S.Q.U.I.P, sure, so he wouldn't be completely alone. But Rich didn't, and he seemed shaken up already, and from what Michael could assume from Bo, other S.Q.U.I.P's could tell when someone was S.Q.U.I.P'ed or not, and Rich /wasn't/, which couldn't be good in a school where it seemed everyone already was.

"You should hide in the bathroom. I don't- well-" 

"You don't have a S.Q.U.I.P. It's high risk for you to be without Michael, who does have one. As well as this, your mental health might not be stable enough to handle it in this moment." Bo cuts right to the point, already knowing Michael wouldn't be able to get that out. 

Rich looks at Bo, and he doesn't really seem offended, just determined. 

"No, I'm going." He directs his attention to Michael. "I can tell you how he's acting, and that'll prepare you for it. I can do this."

Michael looks taken back, stopping in the middle of the hall. The hallway is nearly empty, with the number of students passing by them becoming fewer and fewer. 

He opens his mouth to say something, but in that moment, he sees a familiar build: tall and broad. 

"Yo, Rich! Long time no see." Jake strides up to them, shooting Michael a look. 

"He's signaling to me, Michael." Bo hisses to him, expression and overall demeanor not changing. Not even his gaze moves from where he's facing Jake.

Can he see you? 

/No, only Rich has been the one able to see me, but what he's doing now is a way of greeting for other users. Think of it as an acknowledgment of my presence. He's /checking/ you for a S.Q.U.I.P./ 

"Never thought I'd see you around Mell." He slings an arm around Rich, who immediately tenses.

"He's S.Q.U.I.P'ed, Rich, and he knows you’re not.” Bo informs, which seems to only aid in excelling the panicked look on his face.

"Don't worry. Just stay calm and blend in. Do not take anything anyone offers you. We don't know the kind of game they're playing, and I can't imagine they'd let someone who's not S.Q.U.I.P'ed stay that way." 

Rich opens his mouth to say something, but he then must realize he can't.

Tell him to text me and keep me updated. I'll keep a close eye on my phone for him.

Michael thinks at Bo. He had remembered they'd charged Rich's phone specifically for that purpose, and he had brought it for that reason, too.

Bo relayed the message to Rich, who throws back a glance, then he's disappearing down the hall with Jake. 

Michael stares at him, watching him go, his stomach feeling like it had sunk into the ground. 

It's Bo who gets him to move on, walking to his first period.

What do I do? 

He asks as he sits down, seeing kids pass by him without even looking his way. 

/Do what everyone else is. Everyone thinks you're S.Q.U.I.P'ed, all you need to do is make sure they don't notice I'm broken./

Michael nods to himself as the bell rings, signaling class had begun. 

At first, he's nervous. 

He doesn't even have his old backpack, and he only has one notebook, what if he blows it?

Until he notices, no one reaches for their bag.

/Don't move./

Everyone is sat still, facing the wall in front of them.

/Everyone in this room is S.Q.U.I.P'ed. By observing them, their minds are seemingly shut down. Because Jeremy isn't here, they have no reason to function./ 

Michael feels his blood run cold, mouth dropping open in horror before he closes it, reminding himself that he had to blend in. 

/They don't have a purpose when Jeremy isn't around, or if they aren't around someone who isn't S.Q.U.I.P'ed. It seems like they only exist to make Jeremy's life feel a bit more normal while still having complete control over everyone. Think of them like an npc in a video game. In this case, Jeremy would be the player, and you'd be an npc./

I wanna go home. I don't want to do this anymore.

Michael clenches his fists, nerves going on end.

/We’re too far in. This is going to be hard, and scary; I don’t doubt that. This will be a challenge, and you must be prepared for it./

Michael feels unsure, the self-doubt beginning to rear its ugly head.

No, I can’t do it. I’ve never done anything like this in my life. I’m too much of a coward.

Bo appears next to the desk, kneeling so he’s looking Michael in the eyes.

/Listen to me, you can do this. Of course, if you begin doubting yourself, you might feel like you can’t, but trust me, you can. I’m in your head, I know everything there is to know about you, and if anyone can be sure you could do this, it’d be me. It’s okay to be scared, you know./

There’s obviously still a trace of doubt in Michael’s gaze as he looks down at the desk, then closes his eyes. 

/Who got all of this together in the first place? You went to Rich, you asked him to come with you, you knew you had to stop Jeremy. If you were truly a coward, you would’ve called the whole thing off the minute I told you both how many students had been S.Q.U.I.P’ed, but you didn’t./

Michael doesn’t say anything, but opens his eyes.

/The moment you begin doubting yourself, that’s when this whole thing sinks. You have to believe you can do this, because you /can/ do this./

His eyes search Bo, like he had an alternative motive on telling him this, or that he could possibly be lying to spare his feelings, but he knows Bo wouldn’t do that. He’s always blunt. 

So, he nods, silently showing he’s accepted Bo’s words

/Good. Now, I’m not going to make you stay this whole period, but I need to collect as much data as possible. From here, it’s the best place. I can pick up how much of the technology in their S.Q.U.I.P has been altered./

I understand. Also, how come they can’t sense you’re broken?

/Hm, well, I’m going to assume it’s because their abilities have been dumbed down. Most S.Q.U.I.P’s are solely focused on improving the lives of their host or fulfilling the reasons the host took the S.Q.U.I.P in the first place. They don’t care about others or how their S.Q.U.I.P’s work, usually they never give it much attention past acknowledging someone has a S.Q.U.I.P./

Michael leans back in his seat, feeling scared to let out so much as a breath. Everyone had a blank expression on their face, sitting there like just an empty husk of the students they used to be. It was unsettling, making Michael feel suffocated with fear and discomfort. He looks over at Bo, who’s pupils have vanished, leaving him basically alone, before they reappear, and he begins talking.

/As I thought, nothing. This seems weird to you because you still have cognitive thought. All these students are gone, there’s nothing in their heads, even the teacher. That’s why they’re all unresponsive and vacant. I don’t know if the person inside them is aware of what’s going on, or if they’re asleep inside their own heads, but the S.Q.U.I.P has taken over their brain./ 

Michael feels like he could throw up, shifting uncomfortably in his seat. 

And we can’t help them at all?

Bo appears to have to think about that question before he answers, looking at the students.

/We can’t do anything yet. Our first objective should be to target Jeremy and get his S.Q.U.I.P shut off. We can’t be idle about this, though. I can confirm now that the longer the S.Q.U.I.P’s are in their heads, the more and more they loose themselves. If we wait too long, they might not ever be normal again, or, and this is just a hypothesis of the worst possible outcome, it might kill them./

Michael swallows, feeling a lump form in his throat. There’s a cold sweat that runs through his body, his stomach turning.

It can /kill/ them?

/Yes. The S.Q.U.I P is in your brain, and it usually connects to your entire nerves system. Because your brain is sensitive, and so are your nerves, it can basically melt your nerves or cause stroke and seizures. Those are fatal in most cases. I wouldn’t worry about yourself, as since I did not connect to your nervous system, I cannot have that level of impact on you./

Michael is silent, trying to hold back the urge to vomit. 

I think I’m going to have a panic attack.

/That’s okay. It’s a normal human response to this situation. It’s okay./

He sets his elbows on the desk, covering his face. He doesn’t know if moving will blow his cover, but Bo stays silent, and no one moves. He closed his eyes, trying not to make a single noise other than puffs of air coming from him as he tries to breathe.

It was almost too much for him to comprehend, and now all of it was very, very real. This was happening, and everyone in this room could be dead before it was all over. 

All of this. .because of Jeremy.

He feels a cold feeling on his back, jolting a little. As he uncovers his face to reveal his eyes, looking to the side, he notices it was Bo’s hand. It didn’t feel like another human, but it did provide comfort to some degree. 

Because of how quiet the room is, the sound of his tears hitting the desk were audible. It was nothing more than a soft pitter patter, but it was there. Bo keeps his hand on his back, obviously trying to ease the intensity of emotions and bring him down from the panic attack.

And it does work, eventually, even if it takes a moment for him to really get his bearings. The desk has a small puddle of tears on it, hands still trembling as he lays them down on the desk. 

/We can leave now./

Michael doesn’t have to be told twice, silently getting up and slinging his bag over his shoulder as he does. He feels his phone vibrate in his pocket as he heads for the door, expecting someone to stop him, maybe the teacher, but no one does.

Once he’s in the hallway, he pulls his phone out of his pocket, looking at the missed notifications he’d gotten from Rich. He must not have noticed Rich had texted him until now.

[8:45] What the fuck Richard: hey mike this whole class is buggin  
[8:50] What the fuck Richard: jake is acting weird and they keep trying to offer me mw dew  
[8:50] What the fuck Richard: *mt dew  
[9:10] What the fuck Richard: and jeremy just seems off  
[9:20] What the fuck Richard: im gonna go ahead and leave class Jeremy just asked why I dont have a swuip  
[9:21] What the fuck Richard: *squip

Michael curses. He’d promised he’d text back.

[9:42] You: Hey man, so sorry I just left my own class. Mine was bugging too, did you leave class? Where are you?

There’s no immediate response, so he looks over at Bo. 

“What do I do?” He says aloud. The halls are empty, and their first period doesn’t end until ten, so he figures no one will hear him anyway. 

Bo meets his gaze, looking around, before back at Michael. “Let me see if the security cameras picked him up.” He mutters, pupils fading out briefly. 

“You can do that?” Michael asks, though he gets no response, obviously.

When they come back on, he looks unnerved. “They’ve been cut.” 

Michael raises his eyebrows, eyes stretching wide. “Uh, come again?”

“The security cameras,” he repeats, “they’re all offline.”

He takes in another breath, shaky and unwell. “Okay, okay. . .well.” He begins. “That’s scary.” He doesn’t really know what else to say, and he doesn’t have to, because his phone vibrates with a message from Rich.

[9:51] What the fuck Richard: im in the bathroom in your hallway jeremys with me

Michael feels his breath halt, his chest seizing up. This was all going by so quickly, it was hard to really digest everything that’s happened, and everything he now knows. Regardless, he turns around, heading for the bathroom. Jeremy being alone with Rich for a long duration of time, or at all for that matter, couldn’t possibly be a good thing.

He was seconds away from seeing Jeremy. /Talking/ to him. 

Should he tell Jeremy Bo is broken? Would Jeremy expect him to act like every other student? What would he even say? Could he just persuade Jeremy into fixing things? Could he even fix them himself? What if this was all Jeremy’s S.Q.U.I.P and not actually him?

He supposed he was about to get the answer to those questions as he pushed the bathroom door open, seeing Jeremy’s back facing him. 

He holds onto the hope this was just Jeremy’s S.Q.U.I.P, and he would have a change of character when he sees Michael.

Everything about him looked different, from his clothes to his hair, and his /voice/.

“What happened to your S.Q.U.I.P? How’d you get rid of it?” Michael can hear him say as he walks in. His voice seems much more. . .dangerous, in a weird, but very real, way.

Jeremy turns around upon hearing the door, and that’s when Michael gets a good look at Rich, who looks terrified.

“Michael.” He doesn’t say it like he’s confused, more like he’s acknowledging his presence. He tilts his head, narrowing his eyes. “Get out.” 

Michael’s blink in surprise, opening his mouth to say something, before he closes it again, abandoning what he was about to say. “Excuse me?”

Now Jeremy looks confused, raising an eyebrow. “I said get out, I’m talking to Rich right now.” 

Well, he still seems like a dick, that didn’t really change. Not like Michael had an ounce of hope it would, he was sure it was his S.Q.U.I.P making him act like that. He furrows his brows, shaking his head as he walks forward. “No, we need to talk, man.” 

Jeremy crosses his arms, giving a huff as his expression turns scornful. He appears confused, probably because Michael is talking so freely, and the last time Jeremy saw him, he had gotten S.Q.U.I.P’ed, so he really /shouldn’t/ be able to talk so freely.

“What could we possibly need to talk about?”

Michael’s eyebrows pull together. “What do you mean? Look around you, man. You’ve almost S.Q.U.I.P’ed the whole school!” 

There’s a tense energy quickly building between the two teens, the pent-up anger and emotions in both of them rising to the surface.

“Michael.” Rich murmurs softly, probably not expecting him to start confronting Jeremy right then, but his voice is drowned out in both their ears.

“Yeah, I did that for a reason!” Jeremy quips. “I don’t really see why we’d need to talk about that, everyone seems happy to me.” 

“Are you fucking serious? They’re like robots, dude! You’re hurting them.”

“I haven’t hurt anyone, I’ve literally only improved their lives.” 

That sentence gets a chill to run up his spine, mainly because of how dismissively he had said it. “You’re S.Q.U.I.P’ing them without them wanting it, that /is/ hurting them!”

“No, it’s not!"

“I was sitting in first period with them, they literally just stared at the wall! You think that’s improving their lives?”

Jeremy merely rolls his eyes at that rather than giving a real rebuttal. “You expect a bunch of teenagers to know what’s good for them?”

“You’re a teenager! How could /you/ know what’s good for them?”

Jeremy just scoffs at that, rolling his eyes. “God, why do you even care?”

“Why are /you/ getting so defensive?” Michael counters.

That seems to hit a nerve with Jeremy. “Because once again you’re trying to ruin the one good thing that’s ever happened to me! I’m finally happy for once in my life and here you come to try and ruin it. I mean, of course you would be, you’re Michael Mell, that’s all you’ve ever done. You’ve never had a bad thing happen to you in your life, so you couldn’t possibly understand how awful it feels to be someone like me.” He steps forward towards Michael, his tone sounding exasperated.

Michael feels his heart sink into the ground, the words hitting harder than he ever thought they could. “I didn’t want to ruin anything, I wanted to stop you from making a bad decision.” His voice has lost its previous bite, now sounding completely defeated. “I thought it was your S.Q.U.I.P forcing you to do this. I-I just thought-“

Jeremy gives a sarcastic snort that cuts him off. “What? That I’d be happy to see you? Like at the play?”

Michael doesn’t say anything, and Jeremy seems to take the silence as a confirmation, grunting angrily.

“I never wanted you to come back, Michael! I haven’t even thought of you since the play! I’ve been too busy enjoying my life without your annoying ass following me around all the fucking time making my life a living nightmare, half the time people didn’t want to hang out with me was because I was with you!” He snapped. “So stop assuming that it’s the S.Q.U.I.P doing everything and maybe just accept the fact I never really liked you in the first place!” His voice cracks a little, throwing his arms up. 

Michael has his mouth opened, stunned into silence. Any hope he had seemed to shatter into pieces, making a deep ache settle all over his body.

“Now move, I’m leaving.” Jeremy pushes past him, shoulder roughly knocking against Michael’s. As he heads for the door, Michael turns around, reaching for his wrist. 

“Wait, Jeremy.”

As his fingers close around his wrist, Jeremy forcefully pulls it away like his touch had burned him, whipping around to face him. “God fucking damn it, what? What do you want?” He snaps, his words coming out quickly, all of them laced with venom.

“Please, I need you to stop what you’re doing.” It’s weak, a final plea, which only gets Jeremy to furrow his eyebrows.

“You’re so annoying.” He mutters, turning his back to Michael, continuing to head for the door.

Michael doesn’t know whether to be angry or sad or to just start crying, there’s so many emotions racing through his head.

Bo hasn’t tried to stop him, or say anything, really. Neither has Rich. Maybe they both knew this was Michael’s battle.

“You’re just gonna leave? Seriously?”

Jeremy clenches his fists, turning around once again. “Yes. What else do you want me to say? I’m sorry? Or-“ He takes on a more mocking tone, throwing a wrist to his forehead. “Oh Michael, thank you so much for coming to save me. How foolish of me, I’ve made such a big mistake. Will you ever be able to forgive me?” His tone then returns back to normal, glaring at Michael. “Seriously, what more do you want? For me to start crying in your arms? How’d you think this was gonna go? I’m not going to stop just because you told me to.” He rubs his face, visibly frustrated. “Why do you even care? You should’ve been S.Q.U.I.P’ed. You /are/ S.Q.U.I.P’ed.” He moves in closer, causing Michael to move back. It’s far, far too close, and Michael feels a warm rush of conflicting emotions. The undeniable fact he was still very much attracted to Jeremy made his head spin, feeling uneasy all over with the conflicting spike of frustration at the whole situation. 

Jeremy backs him into a corner, and even Rich seems surprised. “What are you doing?” Michael asked, and just as he had, a splitting pain ripped through his head.

Bo’s eyes stretch out in an oncoming panic, looking over at Jeremy, then Michael. “Michael-“ He rushes to warn, but he doesn’t get the chance to finish, because a scream from Michael cuts him off.

He grabbed the sides of his head, letting out a cry of pain, and as he does, Jeremy gives a satisfied smirk. “Okay, I fixed your S.Q.U.I.P for you. I probably should’ve done it at the play, but that should stop you from trying to ruin this for me.” He then glances over at Rich, who freezes. That sinister smile drops, and he glares instead, stepping past Michael and towards him. “If you know what’s good for you, just stay out of this. I don’t want to have to S.Q.U.I.P you again.”

Michael doesn’t see Jeremy leave, but he knows he does, because he steps over him to get to the door. He’s way too busy focusing on the ripping pain to really care, knees giving out as he sunk to the floor. Everything hurt, like the nerves in his head were set on fire. Bo keeps trying to speak, he knows, but it only comes out as a static noise that elevates Michael’s pain. He feels Rich next to him, and he instinctively leans into him. 

He’s shocked, obviously. He didn’t think Jeremy would ever hurt him /physically/, much less not even have to lay a finger on him to do it. He can’t hear what Rich is saying anymore, only feel his arms wrapped around him. 

Bo has stopped trying to speak, and instead, it’s like Michael can’t feel him at all, only a fair trace of what once was.

He didn’t think he could feel anymore betrayed by Jeremy, but here he was. He writhes in pain, shoes squeaking against the bathroom floor as he pushes against it, like that would help the pain. He grips his hair on either side of his head, now curling into Rich, who’s still holding him. 

He shouldn’t have brought Rich along, what was he thinking? How could he do this to him? 

He can’t apologize, though. Everything hurts too much to even form words.

He only moves his hands to grip Rich’s clothes, which was a hoodie that Michael had given him that morning. His head was pounding, and he doesn’t know how long he’s just sitting there holding Rich. It feels like forever, and then in a moment of clarity, where the pain eases only slightly, he can hear Rich, finally.

“Michael, hey-“ 

Michael’s eyes are teary, panicked and hurt and overwhelmed. “Rich.” He heaves, closing his eyes as the light made it hurt worse. “It hurts.” He probably looks like a mess, but right now he could barely care. Rich just pulls him closer, arms wrapped around him. Michael wraps his arms around his waist, burying his head into the crook of his neck. The smaller’s chest is rising and falling quickly, appearing just as frightened as Michael was.

Jeremy was much more lost and powerful than Michael had originally thought, which was stupid when he really thought about it. He had S.Q.U.I.P’ed the whole school, and practically stripped over four hundred students of their cognitive thought, yet Michael had foolishly clung to the thought that his best friend was still in there and still care about him, when he should have long abandoned that thought.

There’s another realization, one that makes his blood go cold. “Bo is gone.” He gets out, his head still feeling like it was ablaze. “I can’t hear him or. . .sense him.” 

“What?” He can hear the wide-eyed look in Rich’s tone, the fear very much apparent. Of course he was scared, Bo was their only really hope, and seeing what Jeremy could do, there's no way they'll be able to do it without him.

Michael doesn’t get to answer, because he then lets out a sob. He buries his face into Rich’s neck even farther, holding the smaller teen closer. 

Everything just hurts so much.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading!
> 
> Like always, any comments or criticisms are greatly appreciated! And if you have an questions, I'd love to answer them!
> 
> You can also follow me on Instagram @sqigglemtimbers!
> 
> Not going to lie, I expected this chapter to be longer, but I split the original draft in two as I felt it would work better in two parts. 
> 
> Also sorry for the cliff hanger,,
> 
> Anywhoo, until next time! ^^


	6. Suffer With Me [Even if I've been the only one suffering]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jeremy's slipping.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heyo!!
> 
> Here's a short little chapter that picks up where 5 left off, but in Jeremy's perceptive!
> 
> I hope this explains a little more of the previous chapter, as well as act like a little sneak peak for what's to come!

Jeremy stepped over Michael, who was in obvious pain on the ground. It only made his face turn into a scowl, continuing to walk to the bathroom's exit. He pushes the door open with his shoulder, then lets it close behind him with a faint thud, leaving Rich and Michael in the bathroom without so much as a second thought as to where they'd do next.

Jeremy knew what he had done, to an extent. 

He knew the emotional damage his words would cause. 

He knew he'd altering Michael's S.Q.U.I.P.

He knew it would hurt. 

But there was still so much he didn't know. That maybe he /didn't/ want to even know.

He didn't care why Rich was with Michael, or why Rich's S.Q.U.I.P was gone. He didn't care how bad messing with Michael's S.Q.U.I.P had hurt him.

He didn't have to make it hurt, but he did.

He wanted Michael to hurt. He wanted Michael to be afraid of him. 

His S.Q.U.I.P said it was the best way to handle him, so he didn't feel bad about hurting him.

Why should he? 

Michael is trying to keep him from being happy, again.

The past week had been the best week of his life. Everyone was happy, no one messed with him. 

No, in fact, everyone /loved/ him. /Christine/ loved him. 

He was completely controlling the whole narrative. He was happy. 

So why was it becoming harder and harder to relax now?

He looked to his right, through the small window of one of the classroom doors. The students he could see sitting down at their desks are staring forward, expressionless, before they seem to sense him, then each of them look over and begin waving to him.

The bell had already rung moments prior, and every student was already situated in their class so quickly. Jeremy hadn't stopped to talk to any of them, so they just got to their designated places.

"I don't want them to do that anymore." Jeremy speaks, seeing Eric, his S.Q.U.I.P, walking a little ahead of him so their eyes met.

"Do what, exactly?" 

"Make them act more naturally." He specifies, seeing a smile form on Eric's face.

It had been Eric's idea. They both knew that if everyone was drained completely of emotions, it would make Jeremy feel too weird to even be able to enjoy the perfect world around him. 

That's what Eric's goal was, to create the perfect world for Jeremy, where he was happy, and everyone else was happy, too.

Were they happy?

/Are/ they happy?

"Don't be foolish, Jeremy. Of course they're happy. No one cries anymore, no one worries about their grades, everyone knows what to say. No one feels weird or ugly. Trust me, they're /much/ happier this way." Eric says, voice as alluring and convincing as always.

"Yeah, well, maybe Michael's right. They can't even think." Jeremy grumbled, unsure of why exactly he even referred back to Michael. 

"Oh, they can. Don't worry about that. I'm working on it all right now, it's fine. They'll be even more normal for you, while still letting you be happy." 

The late bell rings, giving Jeremy no time to question if he was actually, truly happy. Shouldn't that not even be something he questions?

Of course he's happy. Michael's gone,  
Christine is his, no one bullies him. .

Yet- 

"Jeremy!" An angelic voice chirps, suddenly grabbing onto his arm. "You're going to be late for class." 

Jeremy looks over to see a familiar head of slick black hair. /Christine/.

He feels a sick feeling creeping up on him, a sort of suspicion. That floating, head over heels feeling he'd gotten over Christine for years wasn't there when she touched him, or when he looked at her. He didn't understand.

He stood still, then shakes his head. "Ah, no. I need a minute, I'm going to sit outside for a moment." He tugs his arm away, beginning to walk forward. 

She skips next to him, grabbing onto his hand, interlacing their fingers as she starts walking besides him.

He glances at her. "Uh, alone." He adds, but she doesn't let up.

"But you don't want to be alone, Jeremy. You never want to be alone." She says, like she's trying to correct his own thoughts. 

Jeremy rips his hand from her grasp, whipping around to face her. Something about what she said made his skin crawl. "I said I wanted to be alone!" He shouts, his voice echoing aggressively in the practically empty halls. "Leave me alone!"

Christine steps back, eyes widening a little, and as quickly as hurt and shock takes over he gaze, they go cloudy. She smiles, something so fake in the way it looks. "Okay!" She chirps. "See you later!"

She waves a dainty hand, then turns around, walking to her class.

"She won't remember that." Eric speaks, which must have been why her eyes had gone cloudy. He must have messed with something in her S.Q.U.I.P.

"I don't really care right now." He turns his back in her direction, continuing to walk down the hallway. 

Eric seems not to be pleased with his response, giving him a slight scowl. "Well, you should. This is what you wanted, you can't just suddenly flip a switch and stop wanting it." He speaks sternly, arms crossed behind his back. "I did all this to improve your life, and now you "don't really care"?" 

"I didn't say that. I'm just- I don't know, okay? Get off my back." 

"So, all that work goes to waste then?"

It hadn't really been that hard to S.Q.U.I.P all those students, not after the drama club had got the ball rolling. News of it spread like wildfire, but before they hit the students, they got to the adults first. 

It was easy when Eric made Jeremy such a sweet talker, making it easy to coerce them into taking it. Some he was able to play it off as some sort of practical joke. He'd hype it up, then when they took it, disbelieving his claims, he'd reveal he was just messing with them.

The teachers would always laugh, unassuming, and Jeremy would leave with a feeling of accomplishment.

Some, they didn't know at all. He'd slip it into drinks or gifted food items, and almost always managed to find a way to get the Mountain Dew into their system. 

He'd go from teacher to teacher, rinse and repeat his methods, change them up a bit when he needed to.

Then, the students just went wild, offering it to each other like candy. The same tactics that had worked with the adults worked with the students, and it was even less challenging.

The students would usually be desperate and gullible, and if the student offering it was already S.Q.U.I.P'ed, then it was easy. 

Eric had upgraded himself, getting stronger and more powerful with his abilities, as well as gaining new ones. He had said he wasn't programmed to do what he could now, but said being able to do this was a necessity. That he would improve not only Jeremy's life, but the lives of everyone around them. 

Make them happy, give them purpose. 

So, Jeremy let Eric alter the S.Q.U.I.P's however he wanted, and that's when they both realized Eric could tap into every S.Q.U.I.P's files and programming. From there, he changed around whatever he wanted.

Jeremy never asked too many questions, just took it for what it was worth.

"I didn't say that either. Just- back off, okay?" The teen snapped.

Eric just scoffed. "You see Michael once and then it has you acting like this. Maybe I should've planned ahead for this. I don't know what it is about Michael that makes you act this way, it's ridiculous. You hadn't thought about him until the night he tried to drag you down again." 

Eric was right.

Why should he care what Michael thought? 

Why should he feel bad?

Michael was never ridiculed like he was.

Michael never had people walk out on him or abandon him, much less his own /parents/

Michael was never alone.

Michael /wanted/ to be alone.

And Jeremy /didn't/, so why should it be fair that Michael made him be alone for so long? He had gotten what was coming to him, and Jeremy wanted him to hurt.

He didn't feel bad. He didn't.

I don't.

I don't feel bad.

"You /don't/ feel bad." Eric echos, like he's trying to aid in persuading him. "Think about what he's done to you, what he's /ruined/. You would've never even needed me if it wasn't for him." He murmured, infecting Jeremy's already unstable brain with more toxicity.

"I should've done way worse." Jeremy muttered, hands clenched into fists.

"Oh, don't worry about that." His S.Q.U.I.P mused. "He'll be hurting for a long while. I knew you'd come around, so I did a little more than just alter his S.Q.U.I.P."

Jeremy doesn't question what Eric had said, pushing open the doors that lead out the back of the school. 

There's a sort of easiness that washes over him once the cold November air blows gently over him, hinting at the December that was just around the corner. 

It calms the deep anger in him, and the conflicting feelings of guilt and loss. He didn't want to feel this way. He just wanted to be happy.

And he still would've been happy right now if Michael hadn't shown up today, and with /Rich/. 

Eric looks at Jeremy, who's leaning back against the wall of the school. 

"I don't want to go back in. I'm going to stay here for a moment." He mutters, almost dismissively, sinking to the grass. Everything is so cold that Jeremy can't help but calm down, even if it's slight.

He didn't care what Michael and Rich were doing right now, but he would go back to check and make sure they'd left. 

He just. .needed a few moments to breathe. 

He pulled out a box of cigarettes from his bag, pulling one out. 

Usually the S.Q.U.I.P would scold him for doing something so "unattractive", but since Christine was currently altered, she wouldn't be disgusted at the faint smell of smoke on his clothes.

So, he smoked it.

After he'd gotten those few moments he needed to reset and finish the stress relieving cigarette, he walked back into the building. The air inside warmed his cold, flushed skin as he strode through the hallways. 

This period was two hours long, given Jeremy enough time to himself. He didn't have to throw himself back into the swing of things until much later 

Which meant if Michael was still in the bathrooms, he'd have enough time to deal with it. 

As he pushes the bathroom door open, he clenches his jaw, already building himself up. 

Only. . .the bathroom is empty. 

Michael and Rich weren't there.

Jeremy did notice, however, was that there were droplets of blood in the same spot he'd left Michael on the floor.

Eric smiles to himself, satisfied. "I see it worked. He'll stay away now."

Jeremy didn't know what "it" really meant, but besides, a sinister smile spread across his face.

He let out a laugh. 

Maybe he could finally be happy now, and Michael wouldn't be able to fuck it up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading!!
> 
> Any comments or criticisms are greatly appreciated!!
> 
> You can also follow my Instagram @sqigglemetimbers !
> 
> Until next time! ^^


	7. Rich Set A Fire [Reprise]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Michael and Rich cope, feelings develop. 
> 
> Things turn out to be a lot worse than either could ever have thought.
> 
> TRIGGER WARNINGS FOR THIS CHAPTER: Attempted suicide, abuse

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> BEFORE I SAY ANYTHING THIS PERSON MADE SOMEONE  
> [REALLY COOL FANART](https://www.instagram.com/p/CHHeX3RFbiv/?utm_source=ig_web_copy_link)  
> AND I SEIROUSLY LOVE IT SO MUCH, PLEASE GO CHECK IT OUT
> 
> Also, heyo! It's been a hot minute but here's chapter seven! I finally figured out how to italize words, don't know why it took me so long. To be honest I think I might go back and rewrite/edit the pervious chapters,,
> 
> Anywhoo, I hope you enjoy!

Michael pulled his hand away from his nose, seeing the drops of scarlet smeared across it.

"Your nose is bleeding again." Rich points out worriedly from where he's seated next to him.

"So it is." He jokes at him, but only to mask the fact he feels like he's seconds away from fainting to keep Rich from worrying any more than he already was. He's felt like he'd been on the brink of fainting ever since they left the school almost an hour ago.

His headache had morphed into a full blown migraine, and it hadn't stopped aching. His nose just kept bleeding, almost continuously, which Michael knew couldn't be good.

There's a feeling of despair that permeated the room.

Jeremy Heere, his ex best-friend-turned-crush, just took over an entire high school. He made them literal robots, without the ability to feel or think on their own. They only existed like side characters in a video game, and Jeremy was the player.

Rich and Michael almost couldn't process it. It all felt too unreal, something they'd only see in a movie.

And now? Now the only thing they had going for them, the one capable person who could offer any sort of direction, was gone.

Or, at least Michael _thinks_ he's gone. He can’t really be sure.

"You're shaking." Rich points out, just barely breaking the silence.

Michael just looks at him for a moment, then says, "you are, too."

They haven't really even begun to talk about what happened, not anything past acknowledging that it had.

Rich had started panicking the moment he noticed Michael's nose had started bleeding to the point it was running down his chin and dripping down onto the floor. He was more focused on getting him back home than anything else, seeing as he was in so much pain from the migraine.

_Rich eased Michael up, seeing his teeth clenched tight and small gruff noises of pain coming from between them._

“ _It hurts." He gritted, words coming out stilted and hushed as he leaned into Rich, who's arm looped around his waist and pulled his body even tighter against him._

_Rich didn't answer, or Michael doesn't think he does, anyway, he can't really focus, just blindly stumbles along as he's tugged._

_He rested against Rich, trying hard not to put too much weight and trying even harder to stay standing._

_Every step hurt, and the lights caused his head to pound even more, a steady stream of blood ran down his chin, dripped onto his hoodie._

For a second the thought had crossed his mind, that maybe this was just as Bo had told him, and any minute now he'd drop dead and it'd all be over.

Would Jeremy actually want to _kill_ him?

The fact Michael couldn't give a sure answer caused a nauseous feeling to overwhelm him.

They sat in silence for what was nearing an hour, not really talking about what had unfolded, because they didn't want to have to face the true monster they were dealing with quite yet.

Michael falls back against the bed, staring up at the ceiling. Distantly, he feels the bed dip besides him as Rich shuffles closer.

He closes his eyes, chest hitching with the labor of a breath. "So," he begins, "that happened."

"It did." Rich agrees, a shaky note to his voice. 

Michael wants to convince himself that it wasn't happening. That everyone in that school would be fine, but he can't even entertain the façade for a second, he knows they won't be.

He doesn't even think _he's_ going to be fine, feeling the blood from his nose start trailing down his cheek.

He keeps his eyes closed, even as he feels Rich get up off the bed.

Rich sits down again, nudging him, so Michael finally opens his eyes. In his hand is a tissue, which Michael knew he would bleed through in no time at all.

He sat up, gingerly taking it before wiping away the blood, holding it under his nose to stop it from dripping onto anything else.

"What if-" He starts, biting the inside of his cheek. "What if Jeremy was trying to kill me?" He looks at Rich, who's eyes had stretched wide at the proposition. "The way he looked at me. . . I've never seen him like _that_ before." It was something about the look in his eyes, the smirk, the _satisfaction_ , it unnerved him to no end.

It strikes him in a nauseous realization, his head spinning. "Bo had said S.Q.U.I.P's could kill someone when they're deactivated." He doesn't say anything more, but the elaboration isn't really needed.

The nose bleeds that seemed no where near stopping, the splitting migraine. .

"The migraine-" He starts. "Bo said S.Q.U.I.P's that are deactivated can kill you because it causes like strokes and seizures, what if-" The thought is so sickening he struggles to get it out, stumbling over his words.

"Hospital," Rich blurts out, "we need to get you to a hospital." His words are panicked, slamming into each other as they tumble from his mouth.

"What can the hospital really do though? What would we even say?" He feels his breath hitch in trepidation, eyebrows pulling together.

"Well I don't want you to die." Rich stammers, visibly distraught. 

"Wait, wait-" Michael scrambles for his phone, unlocking it. The glare of the screen causes him to wince, but he pushes through, pulling up google.

Rich is looking right over his shoulder, watching him search for the symptoms of strokes and seizures.

He skims through it, hands shaking ever so slightly.

"It doesn't say anything about a headache, is that a good thing?" He asks, looking over his shoulder at Rich.

Their faces come all too close, and Michael doesn't realize the way Rich's words got caught in his throat for a split second, hiding it by leaning away slightly.

"Probably, but- I don't know, what was he even trying to do? Like what did he do to Bo exactly?"

"I-I dunno," he stammers, "before Bo was just- gone, he was trying to warn me about something," He shifts, sitting up. "Then he just disappeared. I couldn't hear him or anything."

"But why would Jeremy want to get _rid_ of your S.Q.U.I.P?"

Michael pauses for a moment, swallowing around the lump in his throat. "He had said something like 'I fixed your S.Q.U.I.P' didn't he?" He utters quietly. "I don't think he was trying to _kill_ me, but-" His body feels weak, the air becoming heavier, weighing heavy on his lungs. "I think he fucked with my S.Q.U.I.P."

He clasps a hand over his mouth in disbelief, exhaling deeply. "Which means Bo might come back, but just not like the Bo _we_ know."

"Which also means Jeremy's S.Q.U.I.P would be able to control you like the others." Rich finishes the realization, a horrified look on his face.

The pulsing pain racking through his head seemed to get all the more intense, causing everything around him to spin.

"I'm so fucked." He mutters as he laid down on his stomach, burying his head into his pillow to shield himself from the light as his migraine amped up. His glasses pressed painfully into the bridge of his nose, but he didn't move, just closed his eyes tight, not worrying if he smudged blood on the pillowcase or not.

He felt like he would throw up, a cool rush of dread washing over him.

If Bo _did_ come back, would he even want that? The good thing about Bo was that he wasn't like the others, and he didn't want to hurt him.

He wanted to help, and he did.

That's the only reason Michael actually felt comfortable with having a S.Q.U.I.P, but if Jeremy did actually ‘ _fix_ ’ Bo, like he said, then that means-

His migraine revs up, willing the ongoing panic and racing thoughts to stop.

Rich's hand gently rests on his back, turning his body towards him.

Michael would like to believe Jeremy's words hadn't added extra stress to the whole situation, but they had.

They echoed in his head, replaying the painful memory over and over again. He didn't look sorry or like he had regretted what came out of his mouth, and Michael couldn't convince himself that Jeremy just said it in the heat of the moment.

He _meant_ it.

It hurts to think about it, so he tries not to, but he can't help it. His mind doesn't want to shut up, it just keeps _on_.

His mind just likes to remind him Jeremy really did hate him, so much to the point he didn't bat an eye at _physically_ hurting him, and yet, Michael still loved him.

The love was bitter, though. Something Michael couldn't just turn off, but he wished he could, now knowing for certain Jeremy didn't actually give a shit about him anymore. It came so out of left-field, Michael hadn't seen it coming.

Though, he guessed the warning signs had been there.

Loving Jeremy had been a losing game from the start.

Still, though, he clutched onto the good memories like a vice, even if they were just a painful reminder of what was, and what will never be again.

Of each night they stayed up until sunrise playing video games, or just talking, enjoying the others company.

Or the first time they met that fateful day back in fourth grade, when Michael had first moved to New Jersey and knew absolutely no one. Jeremy had just come right up to him and asked if they could be friends.

Or the time Jeremy spent nearly two weeks straight at his house to escape how tense his own home had gotten, and the day his mom actually left, in which Michael spent a whole week taking care of him and his only goal was to make him happy again.

Each prolonged glance or all-too-close touches.

Each memory, over and over.

Jeremy was almost unrecognizable now.

The look in his eyes wasn't the same, they were almost void of any emotion at all if he didn't count the sinister look in his eyes.

Rich moves his hand up to his hair, playing with it comfortingly, and Michael finally lets his body relax, trying to ease the tension that kept his body rigid.

He turns his head to the side, but his eyes stay close. He feels Rich slide off his glasses with a careful hand, setting them safely on the nightstand so Michael didn't break them.

Because his eyes are closed, he doesn't see Rich's expression as he looks down at him, the way adoration mixed with worry mixed with exhaustion and panic.

His head is still pounding, but the bleeding had slowed down to a stop, which was relieving. Michael lets out a small but heavy breath, relaxing all the more as Rich's fingers card through his hair.

This was another unexpected development; the way Rich had changed from how Michael knew him to be all that time ago.

He was a bully, someone who would make his and Jeremy's life a living hell from Sophomore to Senior. Jeremy always seemed to get the brunt of it, though. Michael was usually able to slip past most of the times if he just kept his head down, though if Jake was with Rich that trick didn't really work.

His old relationship with Rich had been strange. He bullied him, but not _really_. It always came off like Rich was going easy on him for some reason, like he didn't want to actually hurt him.

And Michael guesses that had actually been the case. Rich's S.Q.U.I.P had been what instigated him to do all of it, or rather _forced_ him to do all of it. It appeared he always tried to hold back even then, because he didn't want to actually do any of it. That was probably why Michael could forgive him so easily, not holding a grudge against him for a single thing.

That was easier now Michael knew the _real_ Rich Goranski. He's changed a lot, of course, given how the fire and his home life really took it's tole on him, but this was still Rich. The S.Q.U.I.P'less Rich, who had once been the guy shoving Michael into school lockers was now playing with his hair so gently.

It lulled him almost, easing all the feelings bustling around in his head. He felt like he would cry, but he just couldn't. His nerves were so frayed, a mix of being exhausted to cry but too anxious to rest.

He shifts a little, just so he was closer to Rich, and after a moment he feels Rich move to lay down besides him, one hand still rested in his hair.

Michael moves to place an arm around him, snuggling closer. "Is this okay?" He asks.

Rich nods, the soft swish of the pillow making itself heard in the quiet room. "Yeah, I don't mind."

Michael finally cuddled into him freely, arms resting over his waist, face hiding in his chest. He feels Rich put his leg over his, one hand still playing soothingly with his hair while the other arm was wrapped around his shoulders.

The physical affection was nice, as that had always been Michael's go to way of showing affection, whether it was platonic or romantic.

This was one of those times that the classification of the affection didn't matter, at least to him. He just relaxed against Rich, allowing himself to be comforted.

He doesn't know when he had nodded off, but when he finally wake back up, the light coming through the window luminates the room in a pale blue, his mom's cars parked in the driveway below.

Rich is still asleep, arms now wrapped around his chest, hair tousled from sleep.

His headache was gone, which was like a miracle to him. Much to his relief, his S.Q.U.I.P hadn't activated while his was asleep. It was still absent, and Michael was beyond grateful.

He didn't want to know what kind of changes had been made to his S.Q.U.I.P.

The mere prospect of becoming like those students, having his mind completely taken over, terrified him to no end.

A chill runs up his spine at the thought, shuffling back under the covers.

Rich lets out a small 'mh' as he does, opening his eyes blearily.

"Sorry." Michael murmurs.

Rich yawns, shaking his head. "It's cool." He dismisses with a shrug. He stays cuddled up to him for a moment before he finally pulls sway, eyes briefly closed as he leans up.

Michael does the same, and neither speak right away, they simple sit in silence as they both stew in their own thoughts.

There's a sense of relief in him at the fact his S.Q.U.I.P hadn't come back, though the relief was bittersweet. He did want Bo back, he was the one person who could actually give them any sort of direction, but at the same time. . .he didn't, not if Bo was corrupted.

Michael looks over at Rich, who turns to meet his gaze. As their eyes lock, it's apparent there's a shared sense of hopelessness. There's something else in Rich's eyes, too, emotions Michael can't place.

Rich doesn't give him the time to focus on it, because he breaks eye contact as he stands, stretching.

Michael follows suit, grabbing his glasses from the nightstand and slipping them onto his face.

"Your hoodie still has blood on it," Rich points out, voice a little scratchy from sleep.

Michael looks down, seeing the few drops of blood. He pulls it off, draping it over his arm. "I'll go throw it in the washer." He looks over at Rich. "You coming or staying up here?"

"I'll tag along," he shrugs, "I'm kinda hungry anyway."

The mention of hunger makes Michael all too aware of his own, so after he throws his hoodie into the washer they both make their way to the kitchen.

The whole house is quiet, meaning his mom's were probably asleep already. He quietly flicks on the kitchen light, and as he does, his eyes land on the two pizza boxes on the counter.

"Yo, let's gooooo," he raves in an excited whisper, hearing Rich give an amused snicker besides him.

The sound made Michael's heart flip, a dopey smile spreading across his cheeks.

It felt good to smile, he thinks, and for right now, they could. They could laugh and smile and think of a plan later.

Michael wanted to cherish any small moments of clarity, because he was sure in the weeks soon to follow those moments would be nonexistent.

They left the kitchen with a couple slices of pizza, treading back up the stairs as quietly as possible.

They sprawl out on Michael's bed, his laptop in front of them, this time playing Rich's movie of choice.

When the pizza is gone, Michael sets the empty plate on the nightstand, and they both curl up against one another on the bed, laptop resting within sight to provide background noise.

Michael is the first one asleep, with Rich following not soon after.

Funnily enough, it's peaceful, considering the events of that day, but it doesn't last long as morning comes quickly, and then they're faced with _another_ problem.

His parents trusted him enough to get himself to school each day, because he always _did_. If he needed to stay home, he always asked first, but considering the whole situation, he couldn't really do that.

"They left for work already," Michael turns away from the window, looking over at Rich. "We'd be safe to stay home without them knowing." He couldn't help the guilt that came with having to disobey his parents and use their trust to his advantage, _again_ , but they didn't really have a choice, did they? They couldn't show up without Bo, that's just asking for something to go wrong.

What if being around Jeremy activates his S.Q.U.I.P? It's possible that's the only reason it hadn't turned on quite yet, and Michael really didn't want to see just how far Jeremy had gone with changing his S.Q.U.I.P.

"You okay?" Rich's voice stops him before his mind went off into feeding him anxious thought after anxious thought, inhaling as he looks at him.

He nods, fidgeting with the hem of his shirt. "Yeah, yeah, I'm good," he inhales again, debating for a moment whether or not he wanted to be honest, before deciding he didn't really want to unpack all his worries right now.

He was sure they were all pretty obvious, anyway.

They go about their morning routines in silence, not really saying much until they get downstairs. It reminded Michael of the mornings after Jeremy would spend the night, were they'd be so relaxed around each other that the silence was always comfortable.

Rich and Michael had gotten to that point, too, where they could simply lie in silence doing their own thing while appreciating the other's company.

It was something Michael hadn't had in so long, but that he craved.

"So, what's on the agenda for today?" Rich speaks around a bite of Fruit Loops.

Michael would've made breakfast, but he couldn't be bothered today.

"Uh," he draws out the word, giving himself time to decide on what to say, "try not to have a super computer completely take over my brain?" He tries.

Rich smiles at that, letting out a breath. "I guess that's all we really can do." It's said in a light-hearted tone, but the words are heavy as they come out.

There really _wasn't_ anything else they could do but avoid the school. At least until Bo is back, if he even comes back, _and_ if he comes back completely the same and not altered into whatever Jeremy had done to the other kid's S.Q.U.I.P's.

They didn't have any other plan. There was no way they could find a way to shut off all those S.Q.U.I.P's, and the fact Jeremy didn't bat an eye at him being in so much pain from what he did tells him Jeremy probably wouldn't hesitate to hurt them if they showed up to stop him.

Michael doesn't even think he'd be able to fight Jeremy, and he definitely didn't want to put Rich through that, either.

The best thing they could do, and probably the smartest, was stay away from the school for now. Just for now, until one can think of a capable plan.

\--

It became about passing time, then, because they truly couldn't do anything else. Either it was watching movies or playing video games, or just talking.

There was always an underlining sense of anxiety, though. It'd ramp up and rear it's ugly head, and both would be unable to joke, only sit there.

The both of them had started avoiding Michael's parents to a certain extent, made easier at the fact it wasn't uncommon for them to have fallen asleep by the time they got home.

Michael could tell they were getting concerned as the week went on. He'd go downstairs to bring food up to their room on the nights they didn't go to bed as early and he could see them exchange worried glances.

There were some offhanded comments, but they didn't confront him directly, and part of Michael was glad they didn't. He didn't know what he would even say, or what he could say.

So, he acted like he didn't notice, and like they couldn't see how miserable and distraught both him and Rich were.

They probably assumed he was still pained over Jeremy, which is close enough to the truth, he supposed. It wasn't exactly wrong, anyway, seeing as he _was_.

Regardless, he kept up the charade.

\--

By Friday they had gotten a little too restless with staying held up in Michael's room.

"You sure you don't want to put on anything warmer?," Michael asks in a hushed tone on their way out of the house, "it's almost December, man."

Rich waves his hand dismissively. "Pshh, yeah, I'm good. A little pre-December chill is nothing for the one and only Rich Goranski." He boasts. He's wearing only a T-shirt and flannel button up over it, which is definitely way too cold for December, especially at _night_.

They were sneaking out to head to the park close by Michael's house. Well, not really _sneaking_ sneaking out, just not telling his parents. It was Friday, so it wasn't like they'd be sneaking out late on a school night. Not that that would really matter, seeing as they can't actually go to school, but his parents don't know that.

Michael gives him a look, then shrugs. The minute he opens the door, however, and a gust of cool air blows in, Rich shivers.

He giggles, closing the door again. "I told you it was cold," he teases, snickering a little, "hold on, I'll go see if I have a spare jacket." He doesn't give Rich the time to protest, already halfway up the stairs before he could even open his mouth.

He's back just as quickly, a hoodie draped over his arm. It's an old Q*Bert hoodie Jeremy had bought him for his birthday, though he tries not to let himself get sappy and yearn for the old memories, for the good times. He should’ve burned it with everything else, to be honest.

Instead, he focuses himself on Rich.

"Okay, I have this." He whispers as too not make too much noise, holding it out to him.

Rich looks at it for a moment, before silently taking it. Because it's oversized he's able to slip it over the clothes he's already wearing with ease, looking down at the design as he follows Michael out of the house.

"What's with the orange thing?" He asks as they walk down the sidewalk, looking over at Michael.

"Oh, it's Q*Bert."

"Q*bert?"

"Yeah, it's a video game," Michael answers, an amused smile on his face, "you've never heard of Q*bert?"

Rich's eyebrows pull together. "Uhh, no? Should I have?"

"I mean, personally, in my opinion, everyone should know what Q*bert is. It's literally a classic!"

Rich laughs, scoffing. "Well, not everyone is a _dork_ like you. I've literally played more video games in the time I've been around you than I have my whole life."

"I'll take that as a compliment," Michael prides, then snickers, "now add Q*bert to the list of games you'll be playing because I literally will not rest until you've played it."

"Ah, man, you're turning me into a nerd like you." He teases.

"Hey, man, I'm _educating_ you, and I take nerd as a compliment, thank you very much."

"Has Reddit convinced you that nerd is a compliment?" Rich fires back playfully, getting an overdramatic gasp from Michael.

"Miss me with that _bullshit_ , I don't even use Reddit. I refuse to be absolutely _slandered_ like this."

"Sounds like something a person who uses Reddit would say."

"Man I hope you're ready for the fucking massive cease and desist letter you're about to receive for defamation of character."

Rich laughs, the cool winter air displaying it in puffs, and Michael can't help but follow. He remembered the moments like this he had had with Jeremy, sharing playful banter and laughing with one another.

As much as Michael was truly enjoying himself in that moment, he couldn't help the dull ache that had settled itself in his chest at every small reminder of Jeremy.

The walk to the park seems so short in Michael's mind, mainly because the entire walk was spent laughing, which was both something they both needed right now, to be fair.

The park is empty, not a single person in sight with cars passing by only every so often.

As they sat down on the swings, Michael takes the small blunt out of his pocket, giving one last look around before he lights it. He wasn't too worried, though. It's pitch black out, and the cops in New Jersey never really bother to patrol around the park.

"Where do you even get that stuff?" Rich asks, watching him light it.

"Oh, well, I used to get it from Dustin, but then he introduced me to this guy named Chris who was the one selling him the weed," he says, "then I started buying it from him instead of Dustin- which, might I add, was so much cheaper. Dustin was literally robbing me." He jokes.

"Dustin?" Rich raises an eyebrow. "I didn't know you even talked to him."

Michael shrugs. "Yeah, we talked a little," he puts the lighter into his pocket, now holding the lit blunt between two fingers, "we weren't really _friends_ friends, but he was nice to me most of the times."

He puts the joint between his lips, inhaling. The more he thought about it, the more all those memories came back, of how things were before compared to now.

"He was nice to you?" Rich asks, gently swaying on the swing. "I don't think he really liked me, to be honest."

Michael exhales, tilting his head to the side. "What do you mean?"

"Well, we used to be really good friends back before the whole S.Q.U.I.P thing, but after he spent the night at my house Freshmen year. .he changed," he looks off, "I mean, I guess I could see _why_ , it wasn't exactly a fun sleepover."

Michael stays quiet, silently encouraging Rich to continue.

"My dad was, like, flipping out that night. He drank a lot, and when he saw Dustin in my room, he started saying all this shit and yelling," he swallows, shrugging like the memory wasn't still as painful as it was all those years ago, "Dustin left my house that night and the next thing I knew everyone thought I was gay and the only thing people ever referred to me as for my whole Freshmen year was fag." He looks over at Michael, probably to gauge his reaction.

"Oh my god, I had no idea he did that to you." He uttered, handing the joint to Rich as he reaches a hand out for it.

He takes a drag before responding, and when he does, he leaves it casual, like he's trying to hide how much it all still hurts.. "Eh, it could've been worse," he hands the joint back, "I think that's kinda what pushed me to take the S.Q.U.I.P that year, because I was so desperate, then suddenly I was this entirely different person to everyone, probably because no one even knew my name to begin with. For a short time I was happy, then it all went downhill."

"Because of the S.Q.U.I.P?"

Rich nods. "Dude, to be honest, I think I know what happened with Jeremy," he meets Michael's gaze, "back at the party, before I set that fire, my S.Q.U.I.P started saying all this shit- about S.Q.U.I.P'ing people and taking over the world, just bizarre shit. I think that's what Jeremy's S.Q.U.I.P told him."

Michael feels a flurry of emotions, all of them causing his stomach to sink.

The party, he recalls distantly.

The _fire._

His eyes flicker to the burn scars trailing up Rich's neck to his face, the only ones visible and he obviously looked for a second too long, because Rich takes notice.

He nudges the hoodie up to cover his neck, tilting the scarred side of his face away from Michael. "Sorry."

Michael looks up, shaking his head. "Oh, no, no, no, no, no," he's quick to say, watching the emotions on Rich's face change, "it was just- y'know-" He doesn't know how to say it, because he doesn't want to upset Rich. It had been a thought dancing around in the back of his head ever since Bo had told him exactly * _why_ * he thought Rich had set the fire. He recalls the harsh reaction Rich had had in the hospital room, so full of anguish.

"Could I. .ask you something? About that night at the party?" He keeps his voice quiet, but quickly adds, "you don't have to say yes by the way! It was gonna be a kinda heavy question, which you don't have to answer if you don't want to! I don't want to upset you, or bother you-" Michael rambles, and as Rich stays silent he regrets opening his mouth at all. Just as he goes to apologize, Rich smiles, but it’s etched with pain.

"Go ahead, I think I know what you were gonna ask."

Michael is quiet for a moment as his brain tries to think of what the correct way would be to even ask such a question. "Can I ask why exactly you started the fire?" He settles on, cringing at his wording.

Rich sucks in a breath, closing his eyes. "Well, uh, to be honest, I wanted it to kill me."

The bluntness of Rich's words feels like a stake being pushed through his heart, flinching at the confirmation.

So, Bo had been right, and so had his suspicions.

"I was just so done, you know? I think it was my S.Q.U.I.P flipping out on me that really did it, but I had actually been wanting to, uh, do it for a while." The honesty is coming from all the built-up emotions Michael knew Rich had been holding in, and it seemed like he was so tired of keeping everything in.

Michael stayed quiet, allowing Rich all the time he needed to say what was on his mind. He had wanted this since the beginning, but it was obvious at that time Rich wasn’t comfortable with opening up, and Michael respected that. Now he wanted to confide in Michael, he was more than willing to listen.

"I thought that if I needed a S.Q.U.I.P to finally mean anything to anyone, what was the point? Not even my parents gave two fucks whether I made it home at night, they literally only gave a shit about my fucking brother." His voice cracks, and he tries to compose himself again, but it's clear he can't. "I'm sorry, this is, like, years’ worth of baggage, man." He tries to joke but has to clasp a hand over his mouth to muffle the small sob that came out.

Michael shakes his head. "No, no, no, no, it's okay. Let it all out man, I'm here for you." He reassures softly.

Rich never had someone who listened, he realized. His parents didn't, and he was sure none of the so-called friends he'd made because of the S.Q.U.I.P listened either. Now he finally feels comfortable enough to talk about it, and Michael _wanted_ him to.

"I never told anyone, but my dad- he'd get drunk sometimes, y'know? And he'd say all this shit and yell and break things," he wipes at his eyes, "and he would get physical some days when he drank way too much, and the thing was it was always at _me_. They treated my brother like he was some descendant of God, and my brother would never defend me, either. He just let it happened." His hands close into fists. "And that night before the party I guess it all built up, and the minute my S.Q.U.I.P started going off, I just couldn't take it."

He closes his eyes, silent tears making their way down his face. His hands are closed into a fist, trembling, and it's obvious to Michael he's replaying the memory in his head.

_Rich's head felt like it was being spilt open, hearing his S.Q.U.I.P yell into his ear. A loud, splitting noise that only he could hear. It was almost hard to believe only he could hear it._

“ _There's no getting rid of me!" It screeched._

_He had figured out he needed Mountain Dew Red a while ago, and now he was really done. He couldn't take it. Three years of it. He wanted it out, he wanted it gone._

_Of course there'd be no Mountain Dew Red here, though. Why would there be? It was a fucking high school Halloween party, half of the people here didn't even know what Mountain Dew Red even was._

_Alone. He needed to be alone. He couldn't focus on everything. It was too overwhelming. The yelling, the screeching, the music blaring. Too much noise. Too much movement._

_He pushed past the crowd, seeing the bathroom door open._

_He pushed past whoever was coming out, some tall guy with a black sweater on and green lettering that looked like a blur to him. He couldn't care about that right now._

_He closed the door, locking it._

_His S.Q.U.I.P continued to berate and scream at him, repeating horrifying obscenities that made his skin crawl._

_He gripped the edge of the counters._

“ _You can't get rid of me, are you serious?"_

“ _Stop trying to act like you don't want it, too."_

“ _Can you imagine? All of them loving you? Wouldn't that be nice?"_

_Rich hits the counter below him, making his hand go numb with how hard he struck it. "Shut up! Shut up! Shut up! Shut up!" He barked back, closing his eyes._

“ _Open your eyes, Rich."_

_He doesn't know why he does, maybe because he's been so used to taking it's orders without so much as one word of protest for so long, because when he faces the mirror, his S.Q.U.I.P is by his side._

_It's giving some weird, distorted effect to the mirror, making an image of Rich that he didn't quite like._

“ _S.Q.U.I.P them all. Make everyone happy. They can't be truly happy without S.Q.U.I.P's." His S.Q.U.I.P tells him._

“ _No!" He grits his teeth, hands trembling as they gripped his hair tightly._

_There's a pain that runs down his skull, like it was being bashed in_

_He lets out a scream of pain, gripping his head, falling back onto the floor._

“ _It's pitiful how you ended up. You wanted me to fix your life, yet now you want to get rid of me. You won't even listen to me. You wonder why your brother is the favorite. Look at yourself.”_

_Rich grips his hair, back pressed against the wall. Everything hurts, with tears pricking into his eyes._

“ _I don't wanna do this anymore!" He yells. "Please, stop." His hands shake, closing his eyes tight as if it was nightmare and when he opened them everything would be the same again._

_Of course, that doesn't happen. Everything just gets louder and louder, noise piercing his ears._

_Out. He needed out. He didn't want to do this anymore._

_He needed out._

_He wished he never took the fucking thing in the first place. He wasn't happier, who was he kidding?_

_He still hated himself, and at the end of the day he was still completely alone._

_His parents weren't proud, they still didn't even care. They only fought more, it seemed, and he only became more hated by the people who were supposed to love him most._

_He stands, despite the way the pain the S.Q.U.I.P is inflicting on him makes his knees wobble._

_He pulls open the drawers, rummaging through them for something. Anything at this point._

_His something comes in the form of a small box of matches._

_Good enough._

_He sits back, hands trembling so hard it makes it difficult to strike the match._

_He gets it, though._

_He can't think, only lets the match fall onto the rug._

_As it sets the rug ablaze, he can think. But just barely._

_His parents would be so happy._

_So would his brother._

_He doesn't want to hurt anyone._

_But that's all he's ever done, isn't it?_

_He hurts people._

_He's hurt others just trying to go to school._

_He's made others scared to go to school._

_He doesn't want to hurt anyone._

_He doesn't want to hurt anymore._

_The rug's flames are licking up the wall, a sharp ringing filling his ears._

_He sits down on the rug unnervingly and ironically calm, feeling the flames start to eat at his skin._

_It's suck a painful way to go, but he doesn't care. Even then, he'd like to think he deserves this._

_Then suddenly, silence._

_He doesn't hear anything._

_Or see anything._

_Or think anything._

_Finally. . ._

"I was so disappointed waking up in that hospital bed," he utters, not noticing Michael had moved to stand by him. "And my parents didn't even care. They walked into that hospital room with my shit just happy to finally get rid of me."

Michael doesn't say anything, but the minute his fingers touch his shoulders he's standing, and Michael's arms are wrapped around him.

Michael's silently for a moment, holding Rich tightly. The blunt went out in his fingers, merely an afterthought now. He doesn’t know what to say, or what he can say. Rich clutches to his hoodie, pained cries going into his shoulder. His breathes are hitching, and it’s clear to Michael holding onto all of it was slowly killing Rich on the inside.

He had been keeping all this agony in while helping Michael at the same time, and that thought makes guilt overwhelm him. Michael closes his eyes, holding Rich closer as he feels the shorter hide his face into the crook of his neck.

Knowing Rich had been carrying around this pain for so long while still putting on a brave face for him made a feeling of guilt, heavy and uneasy, weigh in his chest.

Rich had been put through so much, held so much pain, that it was remarkable to Michael he could even come across as happy sometimes. Even with how he was in the hospital, it was surprising to him that it wasn’t worse.

Silently, Michael made a promise to himself that he wouldn’t ever leave Rich’s side. Not even after all this was over.

\--

They never bought it up after that night, as it was clear Rich wanted to forget he ever let himself be so vulnerable, but there was a silent understanding between them.

Rich seemed like he was no longer carrying around such a heavy burden, and he grew all the more comfortable around Michael because of it, it seemed. More relaxed, and his smiles become more genuine and less stilted, striking Michael as all the more breathtaking when he would smile.

His smile was beautiful, Michael realized. The way he laughed at his jokes or his eyes would glitter when he was excited or happy. It seemed like something so bright couldn’t be possible with everything going on around them, but every time they caught each other’s gaze and Rich’s blue eyes would gleam, he could almost forget.

_Almost_. The sense of despair always lingered. Even more so when neither of them could come up with some sort of plan.

\--

“We could sneak into the school and see what we find?” Rich suggests, looking over at Michael from his beanbag chair.

Michael blows out a puff of smoke from the joint in his hand, looking over at Rich. They’re really just throwing out ideas and seeing what sticks now. Every time they had one, it was always easily debunked by more thought, it seemed.

“Like, during the day? Jeremy would catch us immediately, or _someone_ would.” He hands the joint to Rich. “They know when someone doesn’t have a S.Q.U.I.P.”

“No, at _night_ , when no one’s there.” Rich elaborates. “We could just sneak in and see what we find, y’know? There might be something.”

Michael rolls over on his stomach, humming in thought. His mind was muddled by the weed, and maybe in hindsight they shouldn’t have started smoking.

It was half-way through the second week now, so they needed to come up with _something_. “It’s worth a shot.” He nods, going silent as they pass the joint to one another. He stays silent as Rich takes a hit, then says, “man, I can’t believe Jeremy did all this for popularity and Christine.”

_Christine_.

Michael would be lying if he said that he hadn’t once felt jealous whenever Jeremy would talk about her, envious at just how head-over-heels he had been, but now, all of that was gone.

He felt bad for her. He hadn’t known Jeremy would go this far just for her. Now Christine was put in this position, completely against her will. She had been nothing but kind to everyone, even Michael, and she definitely didn’t deserve this.

“I feel so bad for her, man.” Rich comments, like he could read Michael’s thoughts.

“Me too,” he agrees, “I feel bad for how jealous I was.” He adds, without thinking.

“Jealous?”

At Rich’s repeat of his words, he realizes what he just said. “Oh, uh, yeah, I used to be jealous of how in-love Jeremy was with her.”

Rich’s face goes into utter confusion, nose wrinkling. “You’re in love with Christine?” The mix of shock and confusion wasn’t unexpected, as it was pretty well established between the two Michael was gay.

“Oh! No, no, I-“ He laughs nervously, scratching the back of his head. “I, um- I’m in love with Jeremy.” He admits, wondering why those words now sounded so weird on his tongue.

“You’re in love with Jeremy.” Rich repeats, not like a question, but like he’s trying to grasp what Michael just said. His expression is hard to read, but his eyes carry a look of affliction and a heavy heart, almost like he’d just been rejected. He’s quiet, and something in Michael aches.

“Hey, what’s wrong?” He asks, leaning up on his elbows. “Are you okay?”

Rich must’ve realized right then he hadn’t masked his hurt, because he then tries to hide it, though small remnants still remained. “Yeah, I’m good, he offers a forced smile, then it fades as he adds, “I just can’t imagine how awful that must be- y’know, with everything going on.”

He looks away, taking a drag from the joint.  
  
---  
  
Although Rich had looked away, Michael hadn’t. He stayed silent, trying to process what the emotions on his face had meant, and just why exactly Rich looked so _hurt_.

And why the words _I’m in love with Jeremy_ seemed like a lie. It wasn’t, Michael had known he was in love with his best friend since seventh grade, so what gives?

It must be the weed, and the stress with everything going on, he tells himself. It has to be, right?

Silence that would normally be comfortable was unusually awkward and tense.

Rich clears his throat, handing the joint back over to Michael. “I used to have a crush on Jake.” He blurts out, looking over at him. He’s trying to brush over the unusual interaction, so Michael lets him, acting like it hadn’t even happened as he responded.

“Wait, what?” The surprise in his tone is genuine, sitting up. “You like Jake?”

Rich is smiling now. “ _Used_ to,” he corrects.

“Wait, wait.” Michael haults, smiling now. “You like guys? Dude, I had no idea!”

He laughs, a joyous sound in his ears. “I’m bisexual, dude.”

“Well, you didn’t _tell_ me.”

“You never _asked._ ”

They both laugh, the conversation diverting itself away from Jeremy, and even as the mood evens back to how it was, the look in Rich’s eyes doesn’t leave.

He’s a little different from that night on, Michael notices. Sometimes he’ll look dazed, or zones out more than usual. There’s a wounded look on his face that just. . . _lingers._

Michael wants to ask, say _something_ , but the moment never presents itself. So, he doesn’t.

They focus on Jeremy and the S.Q.U.I.P problem, as it _is_ their main problem right now, after all.

“Okay, so, we snoop around the school at night and see what we find?”

“Yep,” Rich nods, “it’s worth a shot, right? Maybe there’s something that can help us.”

“What? Like a detailed document with Jeremy’s enter plan and weakness on it?” Michael asks sarcastically, getting a scoff and roll of the eyes from Rich.

“ _No_ , but who knows. There has to be _something_ , right? If the entire school is S.Q.U.I.P’ed I find it hard to believe there’s not a _single_ thing that could help us.” He points out, but they both know it’s a plan born out of desperation.

They truly had no fucking clue what they could do, and as the days ticked by and they nearly blew through another week doing _nothing_ , they had to try _something_.

So, they planned on it.

Of course, not without thinking of some sort of backup plan. A last resort.

“So, if we don’t find anything,” Michael begins, “I think we should try and activate Bo.” He watched Rich’s face to gauge his reaction to the suggestion, watching his eyebrows pull together.

“But what if he’s corrupted?” Rich points out.

A fear shared by both of them, for the same reasons, it seemed. Michael didn’t want Rich to be alone, and Rich didn’t want to be alone. Michael didn’t want to turn out like those students, and Rich didn’t want that either.

Michael thought for a moment, biting his lip. “We have to try?” He’s quiet as he says it, because the fact that’s the best response he could come up with shows how limited their options were.

Rich didn’t look convinced one bit, but he didn’t say much in protest, only sighed. “How would we even do it?”

Humming, Michael suggested, “Mountain Dew?”

As Rich raises an eyebrow, he elaborates.

“Well, Mountain Dew activates it. If Bo’s still there, it should activate him again, no?”

“Yeah, it should.” Rich didn’t look all too happy at the prospect, but he didn’t protest.

\--

They agreed as night rolled around that they’d sneak out and head for the school, and that’s exactly what they did. The chances of someone being there at two A.M were slim, so they didn’t worry too much about someone stumbling upon them snooping around.

Every step brings them closer to the school, and the closer they get, the more they both being to become apprehensive about the whole thing. But they couldn’t back out, they were some of the only people who could actually do anything about it, backing out would hurt so many people, and neither of them could do that with good conscious.

Once they do arrive, Michael goes to open the door, running into yet _another_ problem.

“Dude, the doors are locked.”

Rich groans. “How the fuck did we _not_ think about that part?”

“I don’t know. Do the windows open? Maybe we could use the windows?”

They both go to inspect the windows, with Michael holding his phone in his hand with the flashlight on so they could actually see them.

“Fucking _great_ , the windows don’t even open. Why did we think they would they open?” He doesn’t really know why they even got their hopes up at the idea, anyway. The tall, rectangular shaped windows nearly scaled the entire building, of course they wouldn’t open.

“Lemme see your phone.” Rich holds his hand out, and he doesn’t really think twice before handing it over to him. He turns around, starting to look around in the grass for something.

Michael doesn’t give it much attention, too focused on trying to think of another way in. “We could pick the locks maybe?” As he says it, Rich returns, a large object in his hand.

“What do you thi-“ He starts to ask, but is cut off as he chucks the object at the window, the glass shattering into pieces.

He sputters, mouth hanging open as Rich cheers in his accomplishment. “Rich, what the _fuck_?” He gasps, bewildered.

Rich hands his phone back, going to inspect the, now broken, window. “I’m getting us in.” He responds, very nonchalant given the situation. The hole was large, but not enough for either to get through.

He squints, humming in thought before he gets an idea. He throws his shoulder against the window with as much force as he possibly could. Which appeared to be a lot, considering the hole is now finally big enough for them to get through, seeing as Rich accidentally falls through it.

“You did _not_ just-“ Michael starts, getting cut off as Rich cheers, now sitting up from where he was on the school floor, broken glass scattered around him.

“Boom! Now we’re in.”

“You couldn’t have thought of an easier way in?” He exasperates, though he found himself smiling in fondness at how proud of himself Rich looked. “What if we don’t even find anything useful? Then you just broke it for nothing!”

“ _Hey_ , I got us in. It doesn’t matter how effective it was.” He stands, brushing himself off as little pieces of glass stuck to his clothes.

Michael steps through the shattered window, carefully avoiding the jagged, sharp edges of the glass. “Where’d you even learn to do something like that?” He shines his phone around the empty, ill-lit building.

“Eh, me and Jake used to break into abandon buildings all the time just to fuck around.” He shrugs, wincing slightly as he does, which catches Michael’s attention.

“Is your shoulder okay?” He asks worriedly.

“Hm? Oh, yeah, yeah, yeah,” he insists quickly, rolling his shoulder. “You think demolishing a pane of glass with my shoulder will hurt me? Nah.” He brushes off jokingly. “I’m built like Dwayne “The Rock” Johnson, that was nothing.”

Michael gives a small, amused snort, rolling his eyes. “Seriously though, if it keeps hurting, we should really go get that check out. You could’ve, like, sprained it or something.”

Rich smiles at him, a warm look in his eyes at his worry. “I’m fine, seriously.” He reassures, his words genuine. “Now, lets go see what we can find.”

Michael smiles back, and then they begin traversing through the building while he shines his flashlight all around. It was incredibly uncanny seeing the whole building dark and desolate like this, even more so when they remember all the things currently happening in it. The number of students who could lose their lives just to make one person happy, and the number of students who had already lost their entire minds.

“Where should we even look?” Michael asks, looking over at Rich.

“Hmm,” he hums in thought, passing his gaze around before back at Michael. “The office? I don’t know, it just seems like if we were to find anything it would be there.”

“The office?”

“Yeah, y’know, it’s, like, the most important part of the school, right? That’s where shit usually goes down.”

Michael thinks about it for a moment, then shrugs. “Yeah, I guess.” He shines his phone camera around, then turns down the hallway. “It’s worth a shot. It _is_ what we came here to do.”

Rich nods in agreement, their steps matching in pace as they walked.

It seemed like a maze with how dark it was and it was so disorienting that Michael ended up taking multiple wrong turns before they finally came face to face with the door.

“Plot twist, the door is locked.” Rich remarks just as he reaches for the handle.

He stops, sighing. “Richard, do _not_ jinx it.” He scolds in jest, then grabs the handle. He tries it, and by whatever miracle, it’s unlocked.

“Thank _fuck_.”

He pushes it open, shining his phone around, just in case, before he walks in, Rich following close behind.

They both walk around, really just looking for anything that catches their eye as strange or out of place. Nothing does, not right away, until Rich nearly trips over two heavy boxes on the ground.

Michael rushes over as he hears Rich’s _oof_ in the silent room, light catching on the boxes.

Immediately, he feels unsettled.

“Could this be the something we were looking for?” He looks over at Rich, who meets his gaze with the same uneasy look in his eyes.

Michael kneels, handing his phone over to Rich, who keeps the light shined on the box.

He hesitantly takes the top off, being met with dark blue tissue paper. Biting down onto the inside of his cheek, he lets out a breath of dread before reaching for it, removing it.

Upon doing so, they’re met with what’s in the box. Thousands upon _thousands_ of small, oblong pills.

_S.Q.U.I.P’s._

“What the fuck.” Michael is on his feet in an instant, stepping back. “What the _fuck?”_

Rich moves back with Michael, hand clasped over his mouth that muffles his words. “Where the fuck did Jeremy even get all of these?”

“And what the fuck is he using them for?” Michael adds, though it’s not hard to assume why. The answer was obvious.

“There’s enough in there for the whole of New Jersey!” Rich whisper-yells, looking over at Michael.

Both of their eyes are stretched wide, looking back at the box.

“What do we do?” Michael asked, as if Rich would know.

They were both just as helpless in this situation.

“ _I don’t know.”_ Rich hissed. “I didn’t even think we’d _find_ anything, much less _this_.” He gestured to the two boxes, visibly shaken.

They’re both stunned into silence, unable to do anything but look at the box.

_Jeremy was going this fucking far._

_His S.Q.U.I.P had convinced him to go **this** fucking far._

Michael can’t even wrap his head around it. Who would be able to, honestly, when their best friend was so consumed by a supercomputer that it had managed to convince him to attempt what appeared to be like the start of world domination?

“We can’t do this on our own.” He utters weakly, shaking his head. “There’s no way we can do this on our own.”

They look at each other, and they don’t even have to say a word, they both know what has to happen next. The last resort.

It had taken so long just to think of doing _this_ , how the fuck would they even begin to deal with two boxes _full_ of S.Q.U.I.P’s?

There were so many questions, _too_ many, and Michael had barely even begun to process how far everything had escalated.

They had been placed right into a situation like those out of movies and video games. Something of pure _fiction._

Everything felt unsafe, and the sudden thought of needing to flee became overwhelming.

At that moment, every sound was morphed into something irrational by their paranoia. So, as the walls creaked, a simple noise that could’ve been rationalized in any other situation when they could think more clearly, it set off their fight-or-flight.

They bolted _immediately_ , racing down the halls as if something else but their own fear was chasing them. They only stopped when they made it out into the chilly night, both panting.

They both tried to catch their breath, looking back into the school as if whatever had scared them would suddenly appear again, but nothing did, of course. They both felt much safer being out of the building, but there was still a suffocating sense of fear consuming them.

Rich started pacing, running stressed hands through his hair. “Dude, this is _fucking_ _insane.”_ He shouts breathlessly into the night air. “Jeremy’s officially fucking _lost it_ , he’s _crazy!_ ”

Michael’s eyes stay trained on the dark inside of the school, striking him now as something straight out a horror movie.

It held none of the previous feelings it had, now instead being viewed in Michael’s eyes as what would be the starting point for the complete and eventual downfall of humanity that was hidden right in plain sight.

He looks over at Rich, who’s still pacing. He stops as Michael walks towards him, his expression looking completely defeated.

They’re quiet for a moment as they look at each other, until Michael speaks.

“Well, I guess we need to stop at seven-eleven for that bottle of Mountain Dew.”

He tries to say it jokingly, an attempt to lighten the true severity of the situation, but the quiet, broken tone in his voice almost makes it all the more haunting.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! I hope you enjoyed! ^^
> 
> The next chapter shouldn't take quite as long to come out,, 
> 
> Anywhoo, comments and criticisms are greatly appreciated!!
> 
> If you'd like you can also follow me on Instagram @sqigglemetimbers !
> 
> Until next time ^^


	8. Affection [In All The Wrong Places]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rich and Michael cope.
> 
> The S.Q.U.I.P enters.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heyooo!!
> 
> First things first, I made a [lil Playlist for Cold Love](https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLcUDuDDCKQTF6BYFRyNYnkHgL8WtE9dRg) of all the songs that either appear or that inspired me as I write!!
> 
> Gonna be honest,,, I dont really how I feel about this chapter,,, but anywhooo, here it is!

How did Jeremy always manage to get the upper hand?

He always one up’s himself in doing something even more shitty every single time Michael thinks he’s hit his peak.

S.Q.U.I.P’ing the theater club?

Shitty, but Michael thought it was an easy fix. Maybe one talk would get Jeremy to change his mind.

S.Q.U.I.P’ing the school?

Terrifying and _incredibly_ shitty.

Planning to S.Q.U.I.P all of New Jersey?

_Jesus fucking Christ, Jeremy, you’re an overachiever._

The walk to seven-eleven is one filled with dread, and Michael can’t help but think about how ridiculous it all seemed.

All those cheesy movies that warned about the dangers of technology that Michael rolled his eyes at, and now he was dealing with that very issue.

You give an insecure teenager a power-hungry supercomputer, of _course_ that wouldn’t fucking go well.

Right now, in Michael’s eyes, he views the S.Q.U.I.P as something that was doomed to fail from its conception. It’s something so dangerous that the demographic of desperate teenagers it’s aimed at don’t really understand.

Even when given Michael’s warning, Jeremy had shoved him aside.

The funniest thing to Michael was that Jeremy had seemed so happy to see him at the party, but the moment the mere suggestion of getting rid of the S.Q.U.I.P came up, that look of hatred came back into his eyes.

Though, it hadnt been complete hatred. Not like how it was now.

It was annoyance, how he saw Michael as now someone who was unimportant and getting in the way of his happiness.

He saw him like an obstacle keeping him from true happiness, not like a person with feelings or someone who’d been by his side for all those years.

In his eyes Michael trying to warm him of the dangers was Michael being jealous and trying to hold him back.

That’s probably _still_ how he sees Michael.

As much as it’s tearing Michael apart, like a fire set ablaze that was eating him up from the inside out, he knows he can’t let Jeremy continue, no matter how much he’ll loath him for it.

This wasn’t just about Jeremy, _so_ many people were about to get hurt, and so many were _already_ hurt.

Michael knows Jeremy. Well, leaving him _did_ come as a surprise, but he knows Jeremy in every other aspect, and placing him in such a position of power would only create chaos. Especially with how out-of-it Jeremy already was, so out of touch with reality he couldn’t even see an issue with what he was doing.

He was consumed with his own fake reality that he had built around himself he couldn’t see the absolute _madness_ of the fake world he’d constructed around himself.

Michael is staring at the ground, but despite that he still isn’t actually _focused_ on it, nearly tripping over his own feet multiple times before they finally get through the doors of seven-eleven.

They head for the drinks, looking for that one dreaded bottle of what was essentially their savor or Michael’s self-induced suicide.

“I’m literally positive no one actually drinks Mountain Dew, it tastes like drain cleaner.” He comments, mostly to ease his nerves, as he picks up the bottle.

“The first time I tried Mountain Dew was with the S.Q.U.I.P, and it was, like, the only time.” Rich adds, looking up at him.

They don’t notice, but the cashier snaps his head in their direction at the word ‘S.Q.U.I.P’, a smile on his lips. Not a friendly one, however, one that crooked up in a way that screamed _no good_.

Michael doesn’t notice it at first until he sets the bottle on the counter, getting out his wallet, because that’s when the cashier spoke.

He was no older than them, maybe about by a year or two. “Hey, you know what goes great with Mountain Dew?”

Michael pauses, looking at him. That’s when he notices that look in his eyes, the way his pupils were way _too_ blue, almost electronic.

“Uh, no, I don’t.”

The cashier leans forward, grinning maniacally. “A S.Q.U.I.P.” He says, quietly, as if trying to hide it from Rich.

Chills run down Michael’s spine.

“No thanks.”

“No, no, not for you,” he continues, “for your friend. He doesn’t have one yet.”

At least that told him Bo was still there if he could still be picked up by other S.Q.U.I.P’s, but that also told him this problem was beginning to pour out into the city, spreading _out_ of the school.

Jeremy already had dug his claws into people outside of school.

Had this really happened in the span of two weeks?

Michael silently pulls out a couple of one-dollar bills. “How much?” He grits out stiffly.

“I’ll sell it to you for-“

“For the _drink.”_ He interrupts sternly. Rich looks up at him, but Michael doesn’t look over, too scared to see the look on his face.

The cashier frowns. “You’d rather your friend suffer?” He then says, no longer keeping his voice hush.

“Excuse me?” Rich interjects, going ignored by the cashier.

“Everyone knows you aren’t truly happy without them.” His pupils seemed faded now, electronically blue. “You’d let him stay miserable instead of saving him from himself? You know how good it feels to have one, why not let him feel something so wonderful, too?”

Michael is stunned, opening his mouth, at a complete loss for words.

At that instant, the small chime of the door opening followed by teens laughing seemed to change the cashier’s demeanor immediately. He sits up straighter, his eyes back to their seemingly original hazel-brown color. “$1.88.” He says, looking at Michael expectedly.

He doesn’t move, too shocked by what just happened.

The cashier clears his throat. “Uh, $1.88?”

He blinks, shaking his head. “Uh, right, right.” He hands over two one-dollar bills, collecting his change.

They don’t exchange pleasantries; Michael just snatches his drink and ushers Rich out.

“What the fuck.” They both said in unison for what seemed like the millionth time in that one hour.

They stared at each other, both their expressions reading **_that was absolutely fucking crazy_** , and upon turning their heads to look back into the seven-eleven, they see the cashier doing the same thing to the group of friends who had piled in.

Instead, they’re laughing, and he sees them hold out their hands, being given those small, oblong pills.

Michael feels like he’s going to throw up, a lump forming in his throat as one of the girls in the group opens a bottle of Mountain Dew right in the store, per the cashier’s encouragements, it seemed.

He almost couldn’t believe what he was seeing, and the look on Rich’s face tells him he’s feeling the same way.

Michael could only stare in horror as each one takes it, completely unaware of what they’d just done.

So, _that’s_ how Jeremy was doing this?

Targeting vulnerable teens who were probably already on _something_ that makes their sense of judgment and rational thought incredibly askew.

Of course, they didn’t even need to _be_ insecure, even if that was the S.Q.U.I.P’s main selling point. Simply saying it was a fucking _supercomputer_ in _pill form_ was enough to get people interested, whom of which would probably just take it for gags, unaware they very well just signed off their mind to the tech inside it.

The worst part was they couldn’t do anything about it right now, just try to figure out a solution as quick as possible before a disastrous amount of people succumbed to the S.Q.U.I.P.

Rich turned away, gently tugging on Michael’s hoodie sleeve to get his attention. He reluctantly turns away, incredibly shaken up as they walked back to his house.

It must be around five-thirty in the morning by the time they actually get back, pervious exhaustion washed away with adrenaline.

As silently as Michael could, he opened the door, closing it behind them with a faint _click_.

They head for the stairs, bounding up them as silently as possible as to not get in trouble. Michael would definitely get a talking to if they knew he had snuck out this late on a _school night,_ even if he wasn’t going to show up.

The moment their behind closed doors again, Rich turns to him.

“You okay?”

Michael met his gaze, and he can see he looks just as terrified and disturbed as he felt. “Are _you_ okay?”

“Uh,” Rich began, sucking in a shaky breath, “yeah, just freaked out.”

An obvious conclusion Michael could’ve come to himself, as that was the general consensus between _both_ of them right now. But he knew Rich wasn’t _just_ freaked out, that was just was he was telling him to keep him from worrying, he was sure.

He’d been around Rich long enough to know that he didn’t open up unless prompted, and even then, he had to catch Rich at a good enough time that he felt comfortable enough to open up. There’s still so much Rich hasn’t said, and so much he still wants to say.

He’ll never say anything if it’ll worry someone, like he didn’t want to negatively affect anymore people.

That’s what he’s doing now, Michael realizes, holding onto his thoughts and worries, most of which would never be verbalized.

“Okay, so,” Rich speaks, clearing his throat, trying to deter Michael from trying to push him any further.

Michael snaps back to their original focus, looking at the bottle of Mountain Dew. “Right, the S.Q.U.I.P.” He bites the inside of his lip, taking a deep breath like that could possibly calm the flurry of emotions within him.

From the way he’s staring at the bottle, full of pure fear and dread, you wouldn’t think it was a $1.88 bottle of Mountain Dew from the seven-eleven down the street.

It was like he had been asked to hold a revolver to his temple with a half-loaded chamber and pull the trigger three times, not drink a bottle of _fucking Mountain Dew._

“The S.Q.U.I.P.” Michael repeats with a sigh, closing his eyes for a moment.

“You don’t _have_ to do this,” Rich places a hand on his shoulder, “we could find another way.”

His eyes go from the bottle back to Rich, meeting his solume gaze, then shakes his head.

“You saw how bad it’s getting.” He looks back at the bottle. “I don’t think we can do it alone, and we have to do something _fast_. We can’t afford to waste any more time.”

He hated how pathefic it sounded, that _this_ was the best plan they could come up with and the repercussions for their lackluster, grasping-at-straws plan were huge. Disastrous, even.

“What do we do if it doesn’t work? Or goes wrong?”

The question just weighs in how helpless Michael felt. He felt completely trapped with no real way out.

He can’t offer a good response. At least, not one that wasn’t soaked in false hope that blatantly avoided acknowledging the flaws in their plan, So, he didn’t say anything, just clasps his hand over the bottle cap and untwisted it, breaking the cap’s seal with an ominous hiss.

“Okay, let’s do this.” He tries to hype himself up, but his knees are weak, small tremors running through his body. “Let’s just get it over with.”

_This was the fucking worst._

Closing his eyes, he brought the bottle to his lips, and at that point he had to refuse to think, just tilted his head back.

The taste causes him to shiver, bringing back the awful memories of _that_ night, where he had been forced to take it against his will. It burns the same as it did that night, just without the added shock.

He has to stop after a couple chugs, but it’s enough.

It’s overwhelming just how _underwhelming_ it is. He expected the whole world to explode and crumble the minute the rim of the bottle touched his lips, but- there was nothing. Absolutely nothing.

“How does it feel?” Rich asks, looking at him nervously.

Michael’s mind blanks for a moment, then he says, “like I just drank the liquid version of a circuit board.”

He screwed the cap back on the bottle, letting out a heavy breath. “I forgot it wasn’t immediate.” He nips the inside of his cheek, maybe a little _too_ hard. “I fucking _hate_ this.”

“The S.Q.U.I.P?”

“The fucking waiting game we keep having to play.” He moves to sit on the edge of his bed, a hand running down his face in mental exhaustion. “It’s the _waiting_ and _anticipation_ and _preparing_ for shit to go wrong over and over again.” He takes in a breath that replaces his incoming spur of emotions with oxygen instead, calming him only slightly, as he covers his face with his hands. “I hate it.”

The bed dips with the weight of Rich sitting down, and almost immediately Michael uncovers his face, leaning into Rich, who in turn appears to go rigid. He doesn’t notice, his mind already too preoccupied onto about a million other things.

As Michael himself relaxes, so does Rich. He brings a hand to rest on the nape of his neck, and Michael feels the skin there electrify. He tilts his head up, going to say something, only to stop as their faces come to rest only four inches apart.

He feels his face heat up, though he doesn’t understand _why_ exactly. There’s an urge so strong in him to lean in.

To lean in and then-

Then. . .

Then _what?_

He doesn’t know. So instead, he leans _back_.

That was strange. Michael didn’t understand what that feeling was exactly, or what it meant in its entirety. It was so similar to how he felt when Jeremy used to lean into his shoulder while they were playing video games, or when he would _finally_ manage a win against Michael and he’d give him that happy smile that made him fall apart at the seams.

There’s a painful twinge of familiarity when he thinks about the smile Rich would give him and how it made him feel, or how the touches reminded him more of Jeremy with each one.

_But why?_

Sleep. He needs sleep.

He’s too stressed out to dissect his feelings right now.

“I think we should get some sleep, yeah?” Rich suggests, like he could read his thoughts.

They look at each other for a moment, one knowing exactly what he wanted but too scared to reach for it, and the other caught in a limbo between what he had wanted and what he _needs_ now but can’t yet realize it.

Then Michael nods, and they both move to lay down.

Immediately as his back hits the blankets, he feels his body go limp, exhaustion and comfort drowning him.

Next to him, Rich turns around so his back is to him, careful to leave a space between the two.

Michael is left facing his back, a small ache in his heart.

_Did I make him uncomfortable?_

“Hey, did I-“

He gets cut off as Rich turns around to face him, and he could swear for a moment there were small tears pricked at his eyes.

“Hm?” Rich hums, prompting him to continue.

“Oh, uh, I was. . .” He trails off, shaking his head. “Never mind.”

Michael finds himself now painfully aware of how small the bed was, something he never noticed until right then.

Rich looks at him for a moment, then sighs, closing his eyes.

He leans in a little, head resting under Michael’s chin. He keeps his arms crossed though, like he’s trying to remain reserved but still wants to be close to him.

Hesitantly, he wraps one arm around his shoulders, and that prompts Rich to move in further.

_Why did this feel different now?_

They must both be stressed out, Michael decides. That’s the reason.

So, he shoves that feeling aside, snuggling in closer to Rich.

\-----

Michael doesn’t sleep long, however, because a pink figure is then standing over him, his eyes and empty husk luminating with a sharp, bright pink.

He shoots up, a sound of panic coming from him.

Rich wakes up just as quickly, confused at his reaction. “What? What’s-“ His eyes land on the pink figure, and he, too, lets out a yell.

Rich practically throws himself at Michael, who wraps his arms around him. Both go tumbling to the floor, scooting back from the pink figure.

They keep their eyes on him in fearful anticipation, sitting, unmoving, on the floor.

They expected him to look over, or move, or for chaos and pure havoc to erupt, but. .he just stands there. _Lifeless._

“The _fuck?”_ Rich reverberates, pressing his back closer to Michael’s chest like he was trying to increase the distance between them.

“Is that. . .Bo?”

The figure looks exactly like him, only the pink color is now washing out every other color on his body. His eyes are empty, no pupils or irises, just a bright pinkish-white. He’s also not wearing his normal attire, but now a suit, with what appears to be a very faint floral pattern, and his hair is drawn back into a neat bun. He looks _formal_ , which is almost another reason for Michael to be scared.

“No, that must be Russell Brand, in the flesh, appearing in _your bedroom-_ _who the fuck do you think it is?”_

On cue, Bo appears to glitch, reminding Michael he was no more than pixels in his head.

He turns to the side, only to pause once again, unmoving. His eyes are still gone, remaining lifeless.

“What the _fuck_.” Rich’s fight or flight is very apparent, and it appears then all he wanted to do was run.

Not like Michael wasn’t in the same boat.

“Maybe he’s broken?”

Bo glitches again, and then he moves fluidly, bringing a hand to his forehead like he was in some kind of pain. He blinks rapidly, and then his pupils reappear.

Michael holds onto Rich tighter, the panic making itself apparent.

This was the instant disaster he had been expecting.

Bo stands up straighter, the color coming back to him, if only slightly.

Michael swears he feels his heart stop as his eyes land on them.

“Michael.” He sounds more electronic than he ever has before, something mournful in his tone that Michael can’t place.

He doesn’t respond at first, unaware if he actually _should_.

“How long?” He then says.

“Uh- what do you- what do you mean?”

“How long has it been since you went to the school?” It sounds like its hard for him to get the words out, his voice clipping and glitching as he tried.

Both Michael and Rich’s grip on each other loosened, calming as they realized Bo didn’t really seem like a threat.

He didn’t seem like he was about to completely take over his head or turn on them. He just seemed _damaged._

“Er, two and a half weeks? I think? It’s Thursday, so almost three?”

Bo sighs, running a hand down his face with a jagged and slowed movement.

Michael stands to his feet, pulling Rich up. Apprehensively, they approach him, their steps slow and wary.

“What _happened_?” He asks once they’re standing in front of him.

Bo’s eyes buffer before they actually met Michael’s gaze. “You think fight-fighting your own code against corruption is easy?”

Michael’s eyes widen, mouth hanging open for a few seconds before he actually speaks. “Oh my god, are you okay?”

The supercomputer raises an eyebrow. “If you mean my co- code, not exactly. Obviously, I am damage- damaged,” his voice buffers, “if you mean _pain_ wise, also n- no.”

“Pain?” Rich echoes.

“You can feel pain?”

Bo sighs. “Not pain as you feel, it’s diff- different. But it still hu-hurts, in a vague description. What you ca-call pain, I would equate to this.”

Michael looked at him, stunned into silence. As he opens his mouth to speak, Bo beats him to it.

“What Jeremy was trying to do was override my code and put me as _the default_ , and I would run purely on his pre-corrected code, I wouldn’t even be able to speak to you like I’m doing now.”

“How did you-“ He begins, only to be cut off once more.

“I fought-fought it.” He answers. “That’s why I did- didn’t come back right away. I initiated a tem-temporary shut down so it did- didn’t make me do anything harmful,” he then adds, “the Mountain Dew- it ended the shut-shut down. Why did you drink- drink it?”

Michael glances at Rich, who meets his gaze.

The good thing was Bo didn’t appear to be _‘evil’_ , but he definitely wasn’t the same. Jeremy _had_ been trying to take control of his S.Q.U.I.P, and Bo had fought back.

_That’s why it had hurt so badly._

“We, uh-“ He stammers, looking back at his S.Q.U.I.P. “We needed your help. We found out Jeremy had these boxes of S.Q.U.I.P’s at the school-“

“He’s starting to S.Q.U.I.P other people _outside_ of the school,” Rich interjects, “at the seven-eleven the cashier was _offering_ Michael one to give to _me._ ”

Michael nods, adding, “then we saw him sell it to other people who just _took_ it.”

Bo looks at them, mouth hanging open for a brief minute as he took in the panicked retelling of information.

“Wait, wait,” Bo held his hands up in front of him, “go ba-back, what do you mean “ _boxes of S.Q.U.I.P’s”.”_

“It’s exactly as we said, man! Boxes of S.Q.U.I.P’s!” Rich stresses, throwing his hands up.

“It was two boxes.” Michael elaborates. “But there were so many- _thousands.”_

 _“_ How did you two even fig-figure this out? You didn’t try to go back to the school, did-did you?”

They exchange a guilty look, and Bo lets out a loud sigh.

“ _But we did it at night!”_ Michael reassures quickly.

“When?”

“Uh, last night? So, Wednesday night?”

“So, like-like, six hours ago?”

Michael scratches the back of his head. “Yeah.”

“Let me get-get this straight, you two snuck into the sch-school at night and saw Jeremy had these S.Q.U.I.P’s?”

They nod.

“Is there any way he knew you two were the-there?”

Michael looks over at Rich with a glare. “Rich broke the window to get in.”

Rich places a hand on his chest, gasping. “Well- you left the box open!”

“ ** _Are you both stu-stupid?_** ” Bo then barks, catching them off guard. “You’re telling me-me that Jeremy is in that sch-school right now and know-knows you guys saw what he has? That he’s already seen that bro-broken window? That he saw that the boxes of S.Q.U.I.P’s have been tampered-tampered with?”

The silence from them is a deafening _yes_.

“You did-didn’t even bother-bother to be dis-discreet? Are you-“ Bo’s sentence is cut off as his body is racketed by a glitch, his whole voice buffering.

Michael and Rich taking a couple steps back, watching as a faint blue drowns out the iris of his right eye. It’s slow, but they can see the faint shift in color on his skin. The small electronic marks running down his right cheek turn a bright blue, and he grits his teeth.

“Woah.” Rich grabs onto Michael’s arm, getting the same response from him as they continue to enlarge the distance between them and his S.Q.U.I.P.

They both assumed he was about to lash out, that _this_ was the moment they officially lost.

That was until Bo pointed to the bottle of Mountain Dew on Michael’s nightstand.

“Drink-drink more of-of it.” His voice sounded completely broken, unlike how human he _normally_ sounded.

Michael looked at Bo, hesitating for a moment, but as the blue color became more prominent, he reached for it.

He did as the A.I asked, unaware of _why_ exactly. Though he was much more afraid of Bo now, he still trusted him. Trusted him in the _vaguest_ sense, but trusted, nonetheless.

He drinks the whole bottle for good measure, throat burning. His eyes stay on Bo as he sets the, now empty, bottle back on the desk.

Bo freezes, disappearing in a scatter of pixels, before he reappears, the blue previously beginning to infect him now gone.

It was like the Mountain Dew healed him in a sense.

“Uh, are you-“

“I can’t believe you two left all of that _without_ cover-covering up your tracks.” Bo continues, cutting Michael off. “Do you under-understand the _risks_ if Jeremy gets away with this? One slip up and he _will_.”

He goes quiet, sighing. “I saw things while I was fighting-fighting the code or- I mean, _I know what he’s done and what he’s doing.”_

“What?” Michael croaks.

“All of those students have been completely taken-taken over. Their S.Q.U.I.P’s are programmed to act like parasites where Jere-Jeremy and his S.Q.U.I.P are what their world _revolves_ around,” he explains, “and when I mean revolve, _I mean it._ They can’t think about _any-anything_ else.”

Rich places a hand against his forehead. “Jesus _fucking_ Christ.” He lisps.

Bo continues. “All those S.Q.U.I.P’s in those boxes are all _fake-fakes_. They’re not the _real-real_ ones _._ It’s how he was able to S.Q.U.I.P _so many peo-people._ He has to be getting help from some people we don’t know to mass produce them.”

“So, like a _drug_ ring?” Rich’s eyebrows pull together as he asks, crossing his arms.

“If you would prefer to call-call it that.” The super-computer sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Whatever the case, this is dangerous- even _more-more_ dangerous because they’re not following the proper protocol, which puts the students at a higher risk of their S.Q.U.I.P killing them. The mind is a sensitive thing, if you put unstable tech-technology in it, it will have disast-disastrous consequences. The fact you both could’ve very well ruined-ruined any sort of chance to fix this is incredibly _irresponsible_ and _id-idiotic_ of both of you.”

Michael feels a cold rush of shame fall over him, looking down at his feet.

“I’m sorry.” He murmurs.

“That doesn’t fix your mistake.”

Next to him, Rich grits his teeth. “Yeah, well, yelling at him doesn’t fix it either! I was the one who had the idea to go into the school, so it wasn’t his mistake, it was _mine.”_

Bo opens his mouth to respond, but he’s interrupted. “ _But_ , look at what we know now. Can’t you use your supercomputer abilities to figure out what to do instead of yelling at us?”

He narrows his eyes, the pink border that surrounded his body spazzing for a moment. “ _Can’t you uthe your thupercomouter abiliteth to figure out what to do inthtead of yelling at uth?”_ He mocks. “I’m _try-trying_ , but my code’s a little glitched right now, so excuse _me_ if it takes a mo-moment, even if we don’t really have the time to spend waiting for my code to come around _because_ of what you both did.”

Rich’s mouth is left agar, a hand resting on his chest in his offense. “Excuse me, I don’t sound like that.” He says, ignoring Bo’s other statement.

The supercomputer raises his eyebrows. “Ye _th,_ you do.”

“Oh you’re so fucking lucky you’re just in Michael’s head or I would _fucking_ end you-“ He scowls, clenching his fists.

“Okay!” Michael claps his hands together, trying to tear down the tension building between the two. “We understand, Bo, and we’re sorry-“

“I’m not.”

“Er uh, _I’m_ sorry, then,” he corrects, “but either way, we understand.

Bo sighs. “I will try to figure out what to do, but I can’t promise it will be qu-quick. Everything about my code is dysfunctional right no-now.”

“The Mountain Dew,” Michael begins, “I notice it stopped that- blue stuff that was happening. Does it help?”

The supercomputer tilts his head to the side. “The Mountain Dew helps heal the broken parts of my code, I suppose.” He confirms simply. “I’d keep drinking it to be safe.”

He nods curtly. “Got it. What do we do until you figure something out?”

“Try not to mess-mess anything up.” Bo muses, and just like that, he fades out.

“Ugh! Did Jeremy make him _extra_ dick-y or something, too?” Rich seethes besides him. “ _Fuck that guy!”_

Michael watches the shorter seethe for a moment, before he sets a comforting hand on his shoulder.

“And I totally _don’t_ sound like that!” He shouts, then looks over at Michael. “I don’t, right?” He’s quiter as he asks, an edge of doubt on his face.

Michael smiles, eyebrows pulling together, and as he does Rich mutters out a _mother thucker_ under his breath.

 **“** I think it’s cute.”

Rich scoffs, pushing Michael away with his hand on his cheek. “Whatever, man. I still think your S.Q.U.I.P is an asshole.” He mumbles, grumpily moving over to Michael’s bed, flopping back onto it.

Michael follows after him, lying on his stomach next to him.

Rich is staring up at the ceiling, a look of both disdain and of deep thought on his face.

“Whatcha thinkin’ about?”

“How much I want to punch your S.Q.U.I.P right now.”

There’s a brief pause, one that quickly dissolves into silence before Michael speaks.

“ _TH.Q.U.I.P_.”

Rich lets out a loud laugh, looking over at Michael. “ _Literally_ fuck you.” He grabs the pillow besides him, smacking him with it.

“Oof.” He lets out a snicker, rolling over on his back. He catches the pillow as Rich goes to hit him again, looking over at him.

Rich stops as their eyes meet, a red flush making its way up his cheeks. He lets go of the pillow, turning his head, first to look away, then at the ceiling. “Anyway,” he clears his throat, “what now?”

Michael tries not to stress himself on analyzing his reaction, resting his hands on his stomach as he turns his gaze up to the ceiling as well. “Well, you heard Bo. I guess just try not to fuck up.”

Rich lets out a snort, closing his eyes. “I wake up everyday and choose violence, I’m gonna fuck _something_ up.”

He goes quiet after that, which causes Michael to do the same, leaving them both in a comfortable silence.

Michael glances over at Rich out of the corner of his eye, then turns his head. He looks relaxed now, aside from his visibly clenched jaw.

Michael doesn’t know how Rich does it, looking handsome from absolutely every angle and every moment.

 _Wait_ , Michael thinks, narrowing his eyes, _that’s not a normal thought to have about your friend._

“Is your hair dyed?” He asks suddenly, disregarding his thought.

Rich raises his eyebrows, looking over at him. “What do you mean?”

He smiles in amusement, eyebrows pulling together. “I _mean_ , is your hair dyed?” He repeats, then rolls over on his stomach, bringing them closer.

“I mean, _yeah_ , duh, of course it is.”

Michael chuckles, shaking his head, “Not the red, I mean the blonde,” he explains, “your roots are brown.” He moves up to rest on his elbows, looking down at Rich.

He’s looking up at him, and their eyes only meet for a moment before he laughs, looking away again. “Oh, uh, yeah, it is. No one’s really noticed,” he nods, “the S.Q.U.I.P thought it’d be cooler if my hair was blond, I guess I should work on re-dying it.”

“I like it! I think brown hair would suit you.”

Rich’s eyes go back to his own, their gazes meeting. There’s a fond smile that forms on his face, letting out a sigh through his nose. “You’re so sappy.”

Michael gives a toothy grin. “I know.”

He gives a snort, rolling his eyes in jest. “Alright, well,” Rich leans up, with Michael doing the same, “lets go find something to do, I’m getting bored already.”

Michael laughs. “Already?”

“Yeah, I have a short attention span, dude.” He jokes as he stands, stretching.

Michael lets out a small giggle, then a hum in thought. “Alright, uhh, there’s a mall near here? We could try there.”

He looks back at him, smiling with a shrug. “Why not? Better then sitting here and waiting.”

Michael smiles as well, standing. “We just have to be back before six-ish and we’re good, that’s when my moms’ start getting home. I’d say that’s about-“ He glances at his phone. “-five hours?”

Rich nods, smiling. “Lets do it.”

\----

“Fuck yeah!” Rich pumps a fist triumphantly in the air as the claw machine grabbed onto a Luigi plushie, lifting it up out of the mound of plushies. “I told you I’d get it!” He calls as he grabs it out of the deposit box, shoving it in Michael’s face, who laughs.

“It only took, like, twenty-four dollars.” He replies with a toothy smile, pushing it out of his face.

Rich sticks his tongue out. “Well, I still got it and you didn’t, so suck my _dick_.”

Michael scoffs, rolling his eyes playfully as he took a sip from the smoothie in his hand.

They’re inside the arcade at the mall, upon Michael’s insisting, spending the better half of two hours bouncing from video game to video game. It had been the first time Michael truly let go of his worries, allowing himself to relax enough to enjoy it.

Rich makes grabby hands at his smoothie, getting an amused snort. He hands Rich the smoothie as he hands him the Luigi plushie so he can hold it with both hands.

Michael holds the plushie out in front of him. “Man, this plushie is fucking _ugly_ dude.”

“Is not! I think it’s neat.”

“You’re just saying that because you spent twenty dollars to win it from the crane machine.”

Rich takes a sip, looking away guiltily. “Yeah.”

They both laugh then, with the shorter nudging him playfully.

“Man, _fuck_ you. I hope you feel bad because I won it for _you_.”

“No you didn’t, you wanted to prove a point!”

“Shut up, headphones, I-“ He pauses as he looks forward, gasping as he halted. “Yoooo-“

“What?”

He pointed to the air hockey table in front of them, looking back at Michael. “Dude! I haven’t played air hockey in years, it used to be my favorite.” He says excitedly, a glimmer in his eyes Michael had yet to see. “We should totally play.”

He laughs at his enthusiasm, tilting his head towards it. “C’mon, then.”

“Fuck yeah!”

Michael digs out a few coins from his pocket, putting it in the air hockey table, causing it to whirl to life.

It occurs to Michael as they play, hitting the puck between each other with competitive earnest, that Rich needed this. He needed this moment to let himself breathe and forget about S.Q.U.I.P’s and Jeremy and all the wrongs life had given him. He needed a moment to just _forget_.

Michael realized he hadn’t even had a moment to enjoy being S.Q.U.I.P’less, which caused an ache to run deep in his heart. He was finally free after nearly three years, and he was thrust right back into the middle of it.

He needed this, they both did. So, for a brief moment, Michael let go of the guilt he felt over it. The guilt he felt over not being able to come up with a plan quickly, and the guilt he felt over enjoying himself while so many students where trapped and more people were _becoming_ trapped.

 ** _Relax_**. He hears a voice in his head say.

It catches him off guard for a moment, not used to it after having it be vacant for so long, which lets Rich score point against him with a triumphant cheer as he was distracted.

 ** _It’s just-just me_**. **_It’s Bo._**

_Oh!_

**_Enjoy this, I’ll think of something_**.

Michael relaxes, smiling to himself as Rich places the puck back on the table.

“You’re going down, man!” He shouts.

Laughing, he focuses back on Rich, finally letting go, even if just for a moment.

\---- 

There was something eerie about the trip to the mall, even though Michael did enjoy the time he spent with Rich.

Many times Michael passed by someone who had a S.Q.U.I.P, who acknowledged his S.Q.U.I.P’s presence. Some were adults, which was scarier than Michael would like to admit.

Even amongst Bo’s reassurance, he couldn’t help but feel frozen in fear and dread every time it happened.

He didn’t tell Rich this, however. He couldn’t. This was the first time Rich didn’t seem overwhelmingly weighed down by the whole situation, and Michael wouldn’t dare to ruin it.

“Hey, you should prob-probably pick up Mountain Dew.” Bo interjects while Michael is driving them home, appearing behind them, leaning between the passenger and driver’s seat.

Michael glances at him, nodding. “Alright.”

“I’d advise picking up multi-multiple bottles, just so you don’t have to come ba-back.”

He nods again, then asks, “so, you’re still fighting Jeremy’s S.Q.U.I.P?”

“I’m fighting what’s left-leftover. If I stop, I’m sure my efforts will be overridden. His S.Q.U.I.P is powerful, it’s not impossible to think-think it’s done all this.”

“Hm.” Michael hums in thought.

“The Mountain Dew hel-helps. It gives me and renews my strength so I can continue to fight-fight it.”

Rich crossed his arms, glaring at the A.I, who ignored him, acting like he wasn’t being glared down.

Bo fades back into Michael’s head as he parks in the seven-eleven parking lot, nervously looking over at Rich.

“Do you want me to go in with you?” He offers.

Michael hesitates for a moment, but with further thought, he shakes his head. “You probably shouldn’t, I wouldn’t want to put you through that.” He looks forward, hands nervously tapping against the steering wheel for a moment as he hyped himself up.

Then, with a deep breath, he unbuckled his seatbelt. “Alright, okay, I’m just gonna run in there real quick. Be right back.” He says, and with that, he opens the car door, getting out.

Bo materializes besides him the moment he enters through the doors, staying quiet as he walks with him through the small corner store. He has his arms crossed behind his back, his body occasionally glitching as he walked. It wasn’t fluid or smooth like it previously had been. Now his body buffered or glitched, which Michael knew was caused by Jeremy’s tampering.

Michael stopped by the drink’s, scanning them. He narrows his eyes. “All the-“

**_In your head._ **

_Oh! Right, uh, all the bottles are gone. What do I do?_

Rather than respond, Bo starts traversing the aisles.

“There’s a pack right here.” He calls, pointing at the one twelve pack of Mountain Dew left on the shelves.

_What the fuck? Why’s all the Mountain Dew gone?_

**_They have to activate those S.Q.U.I.P’s one way, don’t they?_ **

Michael feels his stomach sink.

**_They’re probably stocking up for whatever Jeremy’s plan of attack is._ **

Michael feels a lump form in his throat, kneeling to pick up the twelve pack. His arms went weak with anxiety as he carried it over to the counter.

Jeremy was really going for this. However he was planning to pull this off, he was going for it, and it seemed like he was close to putting his plan in motion.

They needed a plan, and _quickly._

**_I’ll think of something, I’m just weighing out our options and the consequences right now to avoid having a repeat of what happened in the bathroom. Just give me some time, I’ll figure it out._ **

Michael didn’t say anything, but he nodded to himself. He trusted Bo, he had no reason not to.

He recognizes the cashier, it’s the same girl he’s always used to seeing. The one who always chatted with him anytime he showed up, which was often.

She was silent this time, much to Michael’s discomfort.

As she turned to hand Michael his receipt, she made eye contact, pupils bright blue.

**_She’s signaling._ **

Michael doesn’t say anything, struck with a sickening fear as he snatched his recipt and change from her hand.

He grabs the Mountain Dew, heading for the car, carrying the sick look on his face as he puts the twelve pack in the back seat.

Rich notices as he gets back into the car. “You good?”

“Yeah, yeah,” he murmurs as he pulls out of the parking lot, “the, uh- the-“

“The Mountain Dew was almost gone; it was a close call we managed to find the twelve pack.” Bo says from the backseat, doing it for Michael since it was obviously going to be difficult for him to get it out.

“What?” Rich turns around in his seat to look at Bo, mouth ajar.

“And the cashier, she was S.Q.U.I.P’ed. She most likely thought Michael was bringing the Mountain Dew to Jeremy.”

He looks back at Michael, who can only give him a quick glance as he drives. “Are you serious?”

Michael nods.

“ _Fuck_ , Jeremy’s moving fast.”

“Which means we’re losing time.” Bo adds.

 _So much for that good moment_. Michael thinks.

**_There will be more, just not now._ **

\----

“Okay, so, what have you thought of?” Michael asks once they’re all back in his rook after dinner, a can of Mountain Dew in his hand.

Michael is sitting on the bed, with Rich laying next to him, resting his head on the Luigi plushie. Bo is sitting on the floor, arms crossed as he leaned back against the wall.

“The only thing I can think of right now is using pure-pure force. To force Jeremy to shut it all down, but that seem-seems incredibly unrealistic. Even if he shuts those S.Q.U.I.P’s down himself, people will die.”

“Hm.” Michael takes a sip from the can, the taste burning his throat. “Is there any way for people to maybe _not_ die?”

“Obviously, it depends on the S.Q.U.I.P, but the rate-rate will be higher with those S.Q.U.I.P’s Jeremy manufactured himself. It’s high-highly unlikely that no one will die once this is over.”

“That’s not good.”

“Indeed.”

There’s a moment of helpless silence before Bo sighs.

“I will figure something out. It’s only been a day, so give me a couple more and I’ll have something. Just keep drinking the Mountain Dew.”

Michael gives him a weary look as he stands. “But what if we don’t have that much time left?”

Bo pauses, looking at him. “I’ll know when Jeremy starts proceeding with his plan, the minute I see the number of active S.Q.U.I.P’s go up at an alarming rate, I’ll tell you.” He reassures. “I have a backup plan if all else fails, we’ll just use that.”

Michael doesn’t have time to ask what exactly that back up plan is, because then Bo disappears. He lets out a sigh so heavy it feels like his chest is caving in, closing his eyes tightly.

He should probably get some rest, he knows, even though he’s completely on edge, and the caffeine from the Mountain Dew definitely doesn’t help.

\-----

Despite thinking it would take ages to fall asleep, Michael does so rather quickly. The moment he was cuddled up to Rich, face buried in the smaller’s chest, arms wrapped around his waist; he was out like a light.

Rich, on the other hand, was not.

His eyes were instead trained on a random place in Michael’s room, cheek pressed into Michael’s pillow as his thoughts raced.

It wasn’t like he wasn’t used to being up long after Michael had fallen sleep, his mind just loved to keep him up at late hours.

He didn’t know how to deal with overthinking, as it was something he rarely experienced with the S.Q.U.I.P. It never _let_ him.

The moment it was gone, however, it was all Rich ever did.

It was worse at the hospital, when he had nothing but the mechanical noises of the hospital and T.V to keep him company.

Back when the only person who ever spoke to him was the nurse.

He had just been stuck in one place, alone with his thoughts. And it had been _hell_.

His S.Q.U.I.P had been right about one thing: his mind was a fucking warzone. If he’s left alone with it for even a few minutes it convinces him everyone hates him and that he’d be better off dead, that _no one_ could ever love him.

He had less time to think about that now that he’s around Michael, who never let him go bored for a moment.

He was always talking about something, whether good or bad. He could talk for hours about his favorite video game, dawning an excited smile and energetic voice, and Rich would let him, finding it unbelievably adorable.

 _Michael,_ the one person who came to see him in the hospital right when it mattered the most.

Rich wouldn’t lie, the first time Michael came to him, asking for help, it hurt, because once again, here was another person coming to him concerned only over what he could offer.

Rich quickly realized that wasn’t the case at all with Michael. He knew that the moment Michael offered to stay and talk, something no one had ever done.

Then he brought him that D.S to keep him company when he couldn’t be there, an act of genuine kindness Rich hadn’t experienced in so long.

Rich spent the longest time trying to figure out _why_ exactly Michael was doing all of it for him, until he realized it was simply because Michael cared. Not because he wanted anything more from him, he just _cared_.

Of course he did, he’d always been like that.

Even just with one glance you could tell Michael has a heart of gold. He practically wore his heart on his sleeve, after all.

That’s what first caught Rich’s eye about him, if not for the fact he was one of the only people who ever acknowledged he even so much as existed in Freshman year.

Michael probably doesn’t even remember, but Rich does. He never forgot, and he doesn’t think he ever would.

_“Did you draw that?”_

_An excited voice came from over his shoulder, causing Rich to jump, flipping over his notebook to hide where he had been doodling on the back of it. He was waiting for his bus, sitting under a tree with pretty pink flowers decorating it, and he hadn’t expected anyone to actually notice him there. He was so used to being invisible he was almost fully convinced he was until he was spoken to._

_He nervously looks over at the person who’d spoken to him, seeing a boy with tan skin and messy brown hair, big glasses framing his face, wearing an oversized red hoodie with one lone patch on the sleeve right at his shoulder. A rainbow one._

_“Oh, uh, yeah.” He replied sheepishly, meeting his eyes._

_“Dude, that looked super cool! You’re really talented.”_

_Rich felt his face heat up. “Oh, uh thank you.” He cringed at how hoarse and awkward his voice sounded, stammering for a moment before he said, “I like your patch.”_

_The boy beams at him. “Thanks! I-“_

_“Michael!” Another voice calls, getting his attention. It came from another boy who had exited the school, dressed lamely in a blue hoodie. “My mom’s here!”_

_“Oh, okay!” He calls, turning back to Rich. “I gotta go! I like your drawing though!”_

_Rich didn’t even have time to respond before the boy, Michael, sped off, meeting up with his friend. They walked in the direction of the parking lot, laughs still echoing as they got farther and farther away._

_Rich’s heart was racing, even as he got on his bus. No one ever really spoke to him until that point, unless it was a mocking jab. But that wasn’t it, someone noticed him, actually saw him._

_Rich smiled to himself on his bus as he watched the scenery pass by, a warm feeling blossoming in his chest._

Rich never forgot, even with the S.Q.U.I.P. He held onto that moment.

It wasn’t until Rich was in his Junior year, he realized the warm feeling he got in his chest every time he saw Michael was love, and it only kept blooming.

Michael never knew, of course. Rich never said a word. He just silently yearned in his own head, even if the S.Q.U.I.P berated him for it.

His S.Q.U.I.P gave him hell for it, if the scars running up his spine where anything to go by, but Rich couldn’t stop. He couldn’t help it.

Rich wanted to know him, wanted to be his friend. He wanted so badly to be a person in Michael’s life, not just someone who picked on him.

But his S.Q.U.I.P would never allow it, continuing to force Rich to be someone he wasn’t and taunt Michael when that was the last thing he wanted to do.

He never thought he’d ever get to explain himself to Michael, or apologize,

Then Michael, the very last person Rich thought he’d ever see coming into his hospital room, showed up like a savior, and knew of the very thing that caused him to act the way he did, and opened his heart to forgive him for all of it.

He even forgave him for giving Jeremy the S.Q.U.I.P in the first place, not holding it against him or resenting him for it.

Rich had nothing then, and then Michael came along and became the only thing he did have, just when Rich thought he’d never see him again.

And in another twist, he offered to let him move in until he found somewhere to go.

When Rich first moved in, he hoped it would kill his attraction to Michael. That he’d finally know the _real_ Michael and maybe he wouldn’t like it.

But that’s not what happened at all, as Michael was everything Rich presumed about him in his head and _more_. So much _more_.

Dorky, sappy, kind and sweet and caring-

Rich just fell even harder for him, yearning almost painfully.

And Michael did not make it easy for him, _especially_ with how cuddly and affectionate Michael was.

At first, Rich didn’t understand the idea of platonic cuddling. His S.Q.U.I.P had taught him that that kind of touch was purely romantic, and it always led to or ended with a sexual interaction, but Michael taught him that wasn’t what it was at all.

He taught him it was also a way to show affection, a physical way to show you care for someone, whether _platonic_ or romantic, such a gentle touch that was so foreign to Rich, but he quickly began to crave it.

Michael had taught him so many things-- how to play video games was one, but the main one that stuck with Rich was that he taught him he was deserving of love.

Despite the scars, or his mistakes, or any of the flaws Rich saw himself, he still deserved love.

Rich doesn’t even know how he got here- cuddling Michael Mell in his own fucking bed, or even being cared for by him. He didn’t even think he’d live to see November

He doesn’t know anything, to be fair.

He feels Michael shift, shaking him from his thoughts, and as he looks down, Michael is pulling him closer, cheek squished against his chest.

Rich feels a rush of warmth go up his cheeks, painting them red as he feels himself fluster.

_You absolute cute bastard, you._

There was one thing Rich knew: dark brown curls and nerdy glasses, tan skin decorated with perfectly placed freckles, a smile that was so infectious Rich couldn’t help but always smile back.

He knew that, a person so familiar, _Michael_.

He knew he was alive, and Michael was alive, too.

And Rich was hopelessly and undoubtedly in love with him.

But he couldn’t say that, and he never _would_ \- even if Michael didn’t love Jeremy, even if Rich was that perfect person he always wanted to be, he’d never say a word of it.

Michael was out of his reach, someone unachievable. He’d never love him like that, and it was foolish of Rich to ever think so, wasn’t it?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading!
> 
> Any comments and criticisms are greatly appreciated!!
> 
> The title for this chapter is based off a song called Affection by BETWEEN FRIENDS.
> 
> You can also follow me on Instagram @sqigglemetimbers!
> 
> Anywhooo, until next time!! ^^

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! Any comments or criticism is greatly appreciated!
> 
> If you want you can follow my Instagram at sqigglemetimbers!
> 
> This first chapter is a little slow, but I promise it'll get more interesting in the next chapters!


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